Reconstruction
by White Mizerable
Summary: In the traditions of the Kingdom of Spades, the Crown Prince is to be married on his twentieth birthday to whichever young lady he wants. Unfortunately, Prince Alfred is having a little trouble with that. Cards AU. USUK.
1. Chapter 1

Crown Prince Alfred of Spades was born in the midst of a war. He remembered none of it, of course, as he was only an infant at the time, but it was the worst war that any of the Four Kingdoms had ever faced, and the only one in which they had all stood together on the same side, and so in all the history books it was penned out as the Great War. It was indeed a great war- hundreds of thousands of men marched out together, arrayed in blues and greens and reds and golds, and though they were all somewhat different, they faced a common enemy, and fought side by side as friends.

Their enemy was the Fey. Each of the Four Kingdoms had dealt with them before, but none were quite sure of what exactly the Fey were. Judging by appearance alone, they were obviously not Human, though could perhaps pass as one when disguised, and their abilities were far beyond what limited magic Humans possessed. They were strange, they were different, and as far as the Kingdoms were concerned, they were dangerous. There had always been stories of children stolen away during the night, and strange faces peering in through windows, and whispers of mutilated bodies found deep in the woods. All of it was the Fey's doing, of course. There was simply no other option.

And so, when a band of Fey came upon a small village at the outskirts of the Kingdom of Diamonds, the situation began tense, and finished bloody. The five Fey and several villagers died in the fight, and everything was cleaned up and mourning was taken care of, and that might have been one sole, isolated incident which would have been quickly forgotten on both sides had there not been one small problem. One of those dead Fey was royalty.

The war began in the Kingdom of Diamonds, and heralds were sent out to the other three Kingdoms, requesting their aid. One by one, they all joined. First the Spades, and then the Hearts, and finally, after nearly a year and many rumors of a possible alliance with the Fey themselves, the Clubs. The Great War lasted for seven long years. Countrysides were ravaged, villages destroyed by both sides, whole sections of forest burned clear to the ground, and the Four Kingdoms won. It wasn't that simple, of course, as any schoolboy could have said, as there were a great many important battles and brave generals and key turning points, but in the end, victory went to the Humans.

This was what was written in the history texts, and what every tutor would attempt to teach his students, and so this was the history that Crown Prince Alfred grew up with. The Fey were evil, nasty creatures, everyone said. They were driven back into the deepest, darkest parts of the forests and warned never to show their faces in Human territory again, and it was all for the greater good. And Alfred believed it, for what reason did he have not to? Why would anyone lie to the Prince? Though he had to admit, he did find it a little strange that all the paintings and tapestries that depicted the Fey showed them as miserable, snivelling little things. He couldn't help but wonder why Kingdoms as strong as the Four would be afraid of such weak creatures. But that was beside the point.

What mattered was that Alfred grew up listening to his tutors, listening to his parents, listening to the guards and the soldiers who had been a part of the Great War, and by the time his seventeenth birthday came around, those ideas of the Fey were ingrained into his mind. He dreamt of going off on a great adventure and doing away with all of them, returning back to the castle as a mighty hero and warrior worthy of having hundreds of songs and stories told about his grand deeds. With the Fey gone, he thought, there would be nothing else for people to be afraid of, and the Kingdoms could live in peace and prosperity.

And then, of course, because the world never spun quite like anyone expected it to, Alfred met one. A Fey, that is. And that is where their story really began.

Hunting had always been one of Alfred's skills. Ever since he was a little boy, his father had taken him out on each hunting trip into the royal forest, and so he quickly became adept with a bow and arrows, and soon was able to outshoot even the Spades Kingdom's most renouned archers. It easily turned into one of his favorite ways to pass the time, to the point where, if someone was unable to find Alfred within the castle walls, they would immediately assume he had gone off hunting in the woods. No one was particularly worried about that- the Prince had proven time and time again that he was fully capable of taking care of himself, and besides, the royal forest was heavily guarded around its borders and nearly impossible for anyone to sneak into unnoticed.

Alfred was hunting that day. He'd gone off in the early morning, long before most nobles would even have considered setting a toe out of bed, dressing himself in clothes warm enough to keep him comfortable in the chilly autumn weather. His servants, used to him coming and going as he pleased, just nodded when he told them to tell his parents where he'd gone if they asked. It wouldn't likely be necessary, but Alfred liked to keep on top of those kind of things, just in case. And so off he went, saddling up his horse in the stables and riding out into the forest, bow and quiver and hunting knife strapped to him.

The woods were bright with red and gold leaves, sparkling in the morning sunlight, and Alfred took a moment to appreciate them as he slowed his horse to a stop and dismounted. The other hunters would not agree, but he found that going by foot led to much better and much more interesting hunts. He tied up his horse to a nearby tree, making sure to give enough room to wander around a bit and graze, and made his way deeper into the forest.

The first signs that something was different that day was the birdsong. Normally, Alfred would start off on his hunt to the chiming of a few birds here and there, just enough of a backdrop of sound to mask any missteps he might have made. But that morning, the noise seemed to ring through the trees like drums, complete with a cymbal crash every now and then and possibly even a few trumpets blaring out a harmony. It was so shocking that Alfred nearly tripped over a tree root that he knew was there and that he always made sure to look out for. Still, it was just a minor annoyance, and something that Alfred could easily count as a relatively natural occurance, so he didn't dwell on it long.

The second sign, however, was far more worrisome. After what must have been hours of moving quietly through the woods, careful not to make a sound that could have been heard over the orchestra of birds, Alfred still hadn't come across a single animal. Even the birds who must have been making all that racket never showed themselves. Alfred, who had never been known for his patience, was quickly growing more than a little irritated. Returning back to the castle without anything to show for his hunt would have left him humiliated in front of his father and the royal hunters, and he refused to allow them the satisfaction. He would keep trying if it took him all night!

A few hours later, he was beginning to greatly regret that pride. Even though he had done everything right, and had made almost no mistakes, he still hadn't caught a single thing. Cursing, he kicked at a clump of fallen leaves. He was the Crown Prince. This kind of bad luck was not supposed to happen to him. The whole ordeal was so disheartening that he almost went back home right then, even without any prize.

That was when he heard the sound. It was so different from the constant birdsong that at first he thought he was imagining it, but then Alfred heard it again, something deeper and more rhythmic, almost like a human voice, though he couldn't make out whether or not there were actually words. Yet it was more than enough to grab his attention, and so Alfred crept forward in the direction from where it seemed to be coming. No one but royalty and those they specifically invited along on their hunting trips were allowed into the royal forest, and as Alfred had come out alone, there should have been no one else in those woods. Someone, or something, must have snuck past the guards, and Alfred wanted to see what it was.

His target was in a clearing. Alfred drew to a halt behind one of the trees around its border and peered into the open space. There, sticking up out of the middle, was a rather large rock. And there, tugging at his leg, was a young man, probably no older than Alfred himself. The man must have been the owner of the voice Alfred had heard, for a steady stream of curses was pouring out from between his lips. Alfred couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He did his best to force it back into a neutral expression.

"Hey," he called out, stepping forward into the clearing, "what do you think you're doing? This is royal property." The man immediately froze, and Alfred held back a chuckle.

After a few moments of what seemed like some kind of internal dialogue, the young man turned and regarded Alfred coolly, his eyes narrowed as he took in the fine clothing and weaponry. "Well, I would gladly leave and get out of your Royal Highness' way if I wasn't so unfortunately stuck here." He pulled at his leg again, and this time, from closer up, Alfred could see the thick coil of rope wound up around his calf.

The laugh refused to be held back this time, and Alfred nearly doubled over as he let it all out. "You got yourself stuck in a hunting trap?" he managed between guffaws. "What kind of an idiot are you?"

The stranger flushed bright red. "I beg your pardon? It's not my fault that some ridiculous hunter decided to set out a trap right where anyone could have been walking!" His struggles against the rope became fiercer and more desperate.

"But no one should have been walking here," Alfred pointed out, still grinning. "This is royal property after all." He strode forward, though it was less purposeful than his movements before and far more meandering and lazy. Strutting up to stand just beside the stranger, he peered down at the man's bound leg, humming lightly to himself.

The man stared at him. "So are you going to just stand there and look, or do you intend to do anything helpful?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know, I'm still deciding."

"You what? Oh, for the Lady's sake… That's what I get for trying to get help from a noble." The stranger let out a frustrated groan and went back to pulling futilely at his bound leg. Whichever hunter had set the trap must have known what he was doing.

Grin slipping a little, Alfred turned to stare not at the trap, but at the stranger himself. He certainly didn't look noble, dressed in rough clothes and with a bit of dirt smeared across one cheekbone, but that wasn't what really drew Alfred's attention. No, what caught his eye was the strangely pale skin, and the wide, vibrant eyes, and the slight point at the tip of the man's ears where almost all Human ears were more round. Alfred might never have seen one before, but he recognized all the signs. "You're a Fey," he said accusingly.

The stranger paused in his movements, though he didn't look up from his leg. Finally, he turned brilliant, cold green eyes towards Alfred. "And you're a Human," he said. "What's your point?"

"My point?" Alfred snorted. "You're a Fey. You were banished from Human lands at the end of the war. You could be arrested and killed just for showing your face out of your forest. What are you doing here?" His hand slid down to rest on the handle of his hunting knife. He'd heard all the stories about how sly and quick the Fey could be, and he wasn't about to let this one get the upper hand, whether he was trapped or not.

The Fey watched his movements carefully, still unmoving. "Are you going to kill me, then?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"I should," Alfred replied. "I have every reason to. You're trespassing, and you broke the rules of the treaty. I could kill you right now and no one would even tell me off." But he didn't draw out his knife.

"Well, if you're going to do it, hurry up and get it over with." The Fey met his gaze evenly, unwavering strength pulsing in his words, even as his jaw clenched with nerves. In that moment, Alfred felt as if he was looking into a mirror. He'd seen that exact same expression on his own face more times than he could count, whenever he was preparing himself for some feast or party or meeting that he didn't want to go to but that he couldn't avoid. And in that moment, the Fey, despite everything that Alfred had ever learned, looked so incredibly Human that he didn't know what to say.

"So?" asked the Fey after nearly a full minute in which nothing happened. "What are you going to do? If you really want to kill me, do it now and don't make me wait around for it." His gaze searched across Alfred's face, flicking down to where his hand still rested on the knife before meeting his eyes again.

"I should," Alfred said again, slower this time. But even he could hear how the confidence in his voice sounded forced, instead of the headstrong declaration from before.

The Fey obviously noticed it as well. "Go on, then," he urged, eyes bright. "Kill me. Show me what a tough, manly Human you are. Slaughter an innocent, defenseless person and do it in the name of justice. Go on."

"Shut up," Alfred snapped at him, drawing the knife from its sheath and brandishing it menacingly towards the man. But the words had already sunk into his mind, and something uncomfortable and almost painful twisted around in his stomach. Had he been anyone else, he might have realized the awful sensation was guilt, but being Crown Prince and all, Alfred had never truly experienced it before. He'd never had anything to feel guilty about.

"Well?" The Fey had been silent for a moment, but now his mouth was twitching slightly at the corners, and his eyes were glittering unnaturally in the late afternoon sunlight. "Come on, are you going to kill me or not?" There was laughter in his voice.

Alfred hated him. He hated him more than he had ever hated anything in his whole life, except for maybe the creepy King of Clubs, and that was saying something. And he would honestly have loved nothing more than to plunge his knife right into the Fey's chest and kill him then and there, because he really wouldn't receive any punishment for doing so. But he couldn't. That moment of familiar emotion, of Human emotion, had shattered his resolve. He groaned and pressed his free hand to his forehead. Everything had seemed so straight and simple before- Humans were good, the Fey were bad, end of story. Now, though… In one fluid motion, he swept the knife downwards. The Fey gasped and flinched.

And then nothing happened. There was no blood pouring out of gaping wounds, and no choked last words as the Fey writhed in the pain. No, there was just Prince Alfred, looking incredibly annoyed, and quite rightfully so, and a very confused Fey who kept glancing from the knife back up to his face, and a cleanly cut rope laying broken on the ground.

"Are you going to run away and make me chase you or what?" Alfred asked snootily once the silence had drawn out too long. "I didn't kill you, so you should be happy and be in my debt. I expect you to obey everything I tell you."

The Fey looked at him, then down at his newly freed leg, and his lips twitched up into the most irritating, obnoxious smile Alfred had ever seen before. It dripped with pure disobedience and disrespect, and that was only reinforced when that mouth opened to speak. "Like that's ever going to happen." Before Alfred could even muster up the breath to yell at him, there was a flurry of motion and the Fey was off running, vanishing deeper into the forest.

Alfred cursed, kicking at the ground in his anger and very nearly striking it against the rock beside him. The Fey had gotten the upper hand after all- Alfred had expected him to run, but he'd completely forgotten about the superior speed and agility that the Fey possessed. There was no way he would be able to catch him now, especially in the forest. But he was Alfred, and he was the Prince of Spades, and he couldn't just let that stupid Fey get away from him like that. "Hey!" he yelled out in the direction that the Fey had fled. "Hey, don't think you're getting out of this so easy! I'm going to get you someday!"

There was no response for a several long moments, and Alfred was just beginning to wonder if the Fey was already out of hearing distance when he thought he saw a flash of brilliant green amongst the fiery autumn leaves. He whirled towards it and it was gone, but then a mocking voice rang out through the woods. "I'd like to see you try, idiot."

If Alfred's parents were alarmed by the sight of their son storming into the dining hall later that night, his hair tangled with leaves and face smudged by dirt and lips turned down into a frown that may well have been a very regal pout, they did a good job at hiding it. His younger brother Matthew, however, did not, staring at Alfred as if he'd grown a second head. Alfred studiously ignored them all and sat heavily down in his chair. He tore his food up and then barely at any of it, and left the table before anyone else even though he'd been the last one there. The Queen cast a wide-eyed look over at the King, who shrugged. Hopefully it just had something to do with him growing up. Seventeen could be a very stressful age for young men, after all.

* * *

><p>AN- This is what I've been working on for the past month! A Secret Santa gift for Binnin on LJ. The original prompt was simply young Prince Alfred meeting and falling in love with Arthur, and then somehow managing to get his parents' approval for marriage. It, er, sort of ran away with me... I hope Binnin likes it anyway, and I hope the rest of you do, too.

Oh, and I just kind of ran wild with the idea of the "Jokers", aka Gilbert and Peter, who weren't linked to any of the card kingdoms, and came up with the Fey. Yeah, haha, I'm a little crazy.

Anyway, this story is nearly finished being written, so there shouldn't be too much delay in updates!


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred didn't see the Fey again for almost a year. His eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and with it went another year of being free from marital life. His worries about finding the love of his life, his One True Love, in less than two years and then marrying her before he turned twenty were much more pressing than a ridiculous insult from a creature he never intended to see again. He searched throughout the Spades Kingdom, from the daughters of the highest of nobles to the farmgirls of the poorest villages. He even tested out theories that Matthew so helpfully offered him, things such as fitting feet into glass slippers and pricking fingers with needles, but none of those did anything but make the girls look at him like he was insane, and he started to question his brother's intentions. His parents did all they could to help, throwing extravagant galas to coax in ladies from the other Kingdoms, arranging masquerade balls to see if love really was blind after all. None of it was working, but his parents refused to give up.

And of course, as mentioned before, the world enjoyed spinning as it liked with no regard to anyone on top of it, and so Alfred found himself sitting on his throne at yet another masquerade ball, courtesy of the Queen. He sighed and shifted slightly on top of the pillow, staring down at all the people dancing and drinking and having fun as if they had no idea what he was currently going through. They didn't, obviously, and he knew it, but their happiness was irritating to him as he tried to think up a solution to his dilemma.

He could marry a girl he didn't love, pick one at random from all the gathered partygoers and announce an engagement. It would make the most sense, seeing as that was exactly what would happen if he didn't find his bride before his twentieth birthday, yet he couldn't accept it. Prince Alfred was well known for being a free spirit and more than a little romantic when it came down to ideas of love. Being tied down to a woman he didn't love for the rest of his life… He honestly did not think he could bear it, and he would have hated to betray his Queen if he fell in love with someone else. So that was out of the question, at least for the moment.

But that only left two more options, and neither of them seemed very promising to Alfred, either. One would have been to give up his claim to the throne and allow Matthew to take it, thus freeing Alfred up to go live his life however he wanted. In some aspects, it sounded very nice indeed, but Alfred had been raised to be King, it was his birthright, and he was not about to give that up so easily. The last option, though… The only remaining course of action would be to wait, and to hope that his One True Love would just magically appear in front of him in time for the deadline. That plan was just as ridiculous as it sounded.

Alfred sighed and shifted again, reaching up to toy with the mask that covered the top half of his face and hid absolutely nothing about who he was, and would likely have settled back into his miserable cycle of depression had his mother's voice not cut through his thoughts. "Alfred, darling!" she called, waving at him from where she stood arm-in-arm with his father in the middle of the crowd. "Why don't you come down and join us? I'm sure there are a few young ladies here who would love to dance with you." Several women tittered lightly behind their masks and fans.

Groaning lightly to himself, Alfred heaved himself to his feet and began to make his way down the steps onto the ballroom floor. "I've already dance with all of them before," he muttered under his breath. It was true- he could recognize almost every single female in the room, even the married ones. The possibility of becoming a Queen, and of the Spades Kingdom at that, was enticing enough of a prize for almost anyone to attempt to win his favor.

He was just beginning to steel his nerve for the inevitable chatter and awkward dancing when someone ran into him. He stumbled sideways, caught off guard. "Sorry," an oddly familiar, male voice murmured. "Terribly sorry-" And then it cut off with a sharp intake of breath, and Alfred looked over at the man who had almost knocked him over. His face was partially covered by a leafy mask, but something about the shape of his lips, the messiness of his hair, those striking green eyes-

"You!" Alfred said accusingly. He drew himself to his full height, which was honestly quite impressive, and glowered down at the man he now recognized as that impertinent Fey from a year earlier. "What are you doing here? You know you're not supposed to come out of your forest, I told you that before."

"Yes, yes," the Fey snapped. The shock from having literally bumped into Alfred had obviously fled. "Are you going to kill me this time, then? Right here, in front of all these people?"

Alfred sneered at him. "I'm not stupid." Before the Fey could react, he lunged forward and caught hold of one of his wrists. "Now unless you want to cause a scene and get yourself killed by someone else, you shut up and follow me." The Fey glared at him but said nothing, and Alfred started to move around the outer edge of the ballroom towards the open doors on the far side. The air was cool that night, so he doubted there would be many people out to disturb them in the gardens.

"Alfred," the Queen called after his retreating back, "where are you going? You'll disappoint all of our guests!" There was a note of displeasure in her voice, one that the whole family knew all too well.

Alfred winced. He knew he would pay for this later on. But there was a Fey in their midst, and maybe, once he had figured out exactly what to do about it, he would not be punished at all when his parents realized what a hero he had been. Yes, that would have to happen. "Sorry, mother," he yelled over his shoulder, waving slightly with his free hand. "I just need to take care of something. I'll be right back!"

"Take care of something?" The Fey snorted quietly as he was practically dragged over to the doors. "I'm not some sort of dog."

"Maybe not physically," Alfred snapped back, "but I bet you can bark like one." He quickened his pace, pulling the Fey out through the doors and onto the wide stone balcony that overlooked the gardens. Behind him, he felt the Fey's steps falter slightly, but he didn't pay any attention to it, other than to tug him forward a little more forcefully. He led them over to one of the dual staircases that wound down to the gardens and strode down the steps without slowing, ignoring the Fey's furious commands that he do so. If the man stumbled or fell, that would be his fault, and nothing that would concern Alfred.

It wasn't until they were deep into the maze of pathways that wove through the flowerbeds and arbors that Alfred finally stopped, pulling Arthur into the sunset shadows cast by the large willow tree that overhung a small pond. He vaguely remembered his mother once telling him about how the peaceful location was a favorite meeting place for passionate, forbidden lovers, but that had nothing to do with the situation at hand and so he pushed the thought away, instead scowling down at the Fey in front of him. He made sure not to release the man's hand. No one would get the best of him this time around. The Fey glared right back up at him- Alfred was pleased to note that he was the taller of the two.

Once their silent glowering had gone on for two or three minutes, the Fey sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes. "Alright, what is it you want? I don't think you're going to kill me, seeing as you've already had several chances and haven't actually done it yet, but I can't seem to think of what else you would want from me. I can't grant wishes or any foolishness like that, you know."

"I know that," Alfred told him, even though he hadn't at all. Some of the old stories had mentioned wishes, but unless the Fey was lying to his face, and somehow he didn't think that was the case right then, the writers of those stories must have been mistaken. It was really too bad. He could have used a wish to summon up his One True Love and get everything settled. There was no use dwelling on it, not when he had other more important matters to deal with. "Why did you come back?" he demanded of the Fey before him. "I told you last time-"

"You told me to stay away, yes, yes, I know," the Fey cut him off, his thick brows drawn together tightly. "But why would I listen to you? You're simply a brat who doesn't understand how the world works yet."

Alfred just gaped at him. No one had ever dared to call him a brat- even his parents had only done it once or twice, and the teasing had been obvious in their voices. Yet this Fey, this stranger, who knew absolutely nothing bout him, was trying to judge him as such a horrible person. Alfred was honestly lost for words. He just couldn't understand it. Nearly everyone he'd met over the course of his life had told him how pleased they were by just how personable and friendly and kind a prince he was, which was seemingly rare amongst royalty. But the Fey… Alfred shook his head slowly, disbelieving. "I'm not a brat," was all he could think to say.

"Well, I haven't seen anything to prove myself wrong yet." The Fey was looking at him sort of strangely, though, the tension between his brows lessening as he took in Alfred's expression. Then that was gone, replaced by the irritated expression that the Fey seemed to wear most of the time, and he pulled at the arm Alfred still hadn't released. "Now, are you going to let me go, or do you really intend to just force me to stand here silently as some kind of punishment? It won't work, I can tell you that right now."

That snapped Alfred out of his thoughts. He frowned down at the Fey, then down at the wrist he still held. What was he intending to do, anyway? His plan had not been thought all the way through. While he would have liked nothing more than to get rid of the man right there, he was slowly coming to accept the fact that he wouldn't be able to live with killing someone in cold blood like that, Fey or not, and besides, he wasn't carrying anything sharp enough to do the job well. Something else would have to be done instead.

"Well?" the Fey asked again, a little louder this time, when Alfred still hadn't said anything. "You can't tell me that you don't have a plan. You seemed rather confident in yourself while you were dragging me out here!"

"Shut up," Alfred told him fiercely. He seemed to say that a lot around the Fey. "Of course I have a plan." Now he just had to think of one. But the Fey was watching him expectantly, his eyebrows raised, and so Alfred grasped at the first one that came to mind. "I want you to show me your magic."

The words obviously took both of them by surprise. Of all the things he could have said, Alfred hadn't been expecting that one to come out of his mouth. The Fey was staring at him as if he'd gone completely insane, though, and Alfred wasn't about to look like a fool in front of the man. He steeled his facial expression down into something more stern and sure. "That's right, you heard me. Show me your magic."

The Fey just looked at him a moment longer before shaking his head slowly. "Magic is not something to show off like that. It's a very personal thing. I won't do it for you."

Alfred frowned. That had only made him curious. If the Fey magic was not what the history books said it was, a tool for war and destruction, he really did want to see what it could do. "No, I want you to show it to me right now." He shook the Fey's arm, maybe just a little more gently than before.

"And if I don't?" the Fey asked, stubborn as always.

Though Alfred was tempted to say that he'd kill him right then and there, he knew that the threat held no real power anymore, not after he'd proved time and again that he wouldn't carry through. He chose the next best option. "If you don't, I'll drag you back inside and reveal you to my parents. They'll know how to take care of you." When the Fey looked like he was going to argue, Alfred shook his head. "You might be faster than me, but I know I'm stronger. You can't get away from me that easily."

"How would you know?" the Fey growled, but didn't even bother to try and pull away. Alfred took that as a sign that he'd been right, and watched with some amusement and possibly a bit of consternation as the Fey proceeded to have a very obvious mental debate with himself, expressions flickering and dying on his face before Alfred could get a good understanding of what they meant. Finally, though, the Fey heaved a defeated sigh and glowered up at Alfred. "All right, your most Royal Highness, I'll show you my magic. But!"

But. That was never a good sign. "But what?" Alfred asked suspiciously.

"In order to work my magic," the Fey said, his lips quirking upwards in a sly smile, "I'll need to use both my hands." He wiggled the fingers on the hand that Alfred still held captive. "I'm afraid that you'll have to release me, your Majesty."

Of course. Alfred scowled. "How do I know you won't run away the second I let go?"

"You don't." The Fey cocked his head slightly sideways, staring up at Alfred with wide eyes that almost seemed to glitter in the light of the setting sun behind his mask. "I would say that you have to trust me, but I doubt there's much use in that. It all comes down to whether or not you think it's worth trying to get what you want."

There was a challenge in those words, something that Alfred knew he couldn't back down from. He cursed mentally, then, very slowly, began to release his grip on the Fey's hand. He could see the way the man's body tensed, getting ready to run, but for some reason, he kept letting go until his hand fell, empty, back to his side. And he waited.

Just as Alfred had thought, almost the very second that his hand was free, the Fey turned and fled, his inhuman speed carrying him quickly away into the maze of the gardens. Alfred groaned out his frustration. He had been a fool for even considering it. "I knew it!" he yelled at the Fey's retreating back. "They always said you could never trust a Fey!"

And then, the most bizarre thing happened. The Fey slowed, and stopped, and turned around to stare back at Alfred. From that distance, Alfred couldn't clearly see his face where it wasn't hidden by the leafy mask, but he thought it might have seemed a little confused. He felt more than a little confused himself, so he supposed it was only fair. The Fey hesitated a moment, wavering where he stood, before he started to move again. This time, though, he wasn't running away- no, he was walking right back towards Alfred. The confusion building up inside Alfred grew with every forward step.

Once he was back in a comfortable speaking range, the Fey paused again, glancing down at the carefully maintained grass beneath his feet before looking up into Alfred's face again. "Do they really say that about us?" he asked, voice quiet. "That we can't be trusted at all?"

Alfred shrugged, aware that his mouth was hanging open slightly but unable to close it. "In the books they do. And the old soldiers say it too, sometimes." He paused. "Why? Is it not true?"

"Of course it's not true," the Fey replied, something of the defensive anger from before sparking in his gaze. But then it faded again. "I suppose I never really thought of it that way, though. To think that all Humans assume us to be liars…"

"Well, maybe…" Alfred began hesitantly. "Maybe they just haven't seen anything to prove themselves wrong yet." It was odd, echoing the words that the Fey had spoken earlier, yet they felt almost comfortable as they passed through his lips, as though that was exactly what he was supposed to say right then.

The Fey blinked at him, taken aback, and the sides of his lips twitched upwards. Alfred almost couldn't believe it. The Fey was smiling, smiling without any hint of mockery or malice or a hidden sneer, simply smiling. "I suppose you're right," he said, and his voice sounded considerably better when he wasn't angry or afraid. "I don't know how we would go about fixing that idea, though, not when we're not supposed to come out of our woods."

Alfred nodded slowly. That strange, churning sensation was filling his stomach again, just as it had the last time he had encountered this Fey. This time, though, he was almost sure that he knew what is was. Guilt may still have been something new to him, but he recognized it now, and he knew he needed to get rid of it before it got worse. "You don't need to show me your magic," he muttered, looking towards the old willow tree instead of the Fey's eyes. "Not if you don't want to. I didn't know it was that private." He glanced quickly over at the Fey, half expecting him to run off again.

"Oh." The Fey was staring at him again, his eyes wide and confused, and Alfred had to admit that he took a little pride in being the one to make a man who seemed so sure of everything act so uncertain. "I, well…" He sighed lightly. "It is a very personal thing, yes, but… If you really want to see my magic, I suppose it would be alright if I showed you."

"Are you sure?" Alfred blurted. "I mean, I do want to see it, but if it's that personal, shouldn't you save it for someone special?" Someone like your One True Love, he added in his head.

Chuckling lightly- and that was another sound Alfred had never thought he would hear- the Fey shook his head. "It's not that personal." He moved forward, hesitating slightly as he came within arm's reach of Alfred, as if he expected Alfred to lash out and grab at him again. Another tendril of guilt wound up inside Alfred, but it quickly disappeared as the Fey squared his shoulders and kept moving, passing by Alfred to make his way to the thick bed of Spade blue roses that grew along the edge of the small clearing. He looked back over his shoulder and met Alfred's eyes. "Don't you want to see?"

"Yes, right!" Alfred strode forward, unable to ignore the slight embarrassed flush that burned across his cheeks. How idiotic he must have looked, standing over there and staring like a fool. He came to a stop beside the Fey and turned his gaze down to the bushes, and to the nearest rose to the two of them, a large, gorgeous blue blossom. "So, your magic has something to do with flowers?"

"Not just flowers, no," the Fey replied, reaching out to touch the same bloom that Alfred was staring at. "This is my own talent. Each one of us has one thing in particular in which we're very good." He paused for a moment, and Alfred looked up to see him biting his lip. There just might have been a bright red glow shining out from his cheeks beneath the mask. "I'm, well, not the best at using magic yet. It's more difficult than you Humans seem to think."

Alfred did not comment on that, his attention too focused on the Fey's hand and the rose and the faint, almost invisible glow that began to surround them both. Beside him, the Fey drew in a deep breath and held it, and Alfred watched, wide-eyed, as the flower shuddered and began to grow. The petals grew up and out, curling into loose spirals. The stem wound itself around the Fey's hand, its thorns retracting into smoothness. Every part shifted, changed, and for half a breathless moment, Alfred thought he saw brilliant blue dragon take form.

Then it all collapsed. The Fey let out a strangled gasp, and the flower contorted in his hand, twisting and shifting, the thorns reemerging to dig into his pale skin. The petals uncoiled and shriveled and the stem writhed in the Fey's palm as it blackened and died. Only once the whole bloom was withered husk did the Fey let it drop back into the bush, where it settled amongst the other, healthy stalks. He cradled his hand back against his body.

Silence reigned for a long while, in which Alfred looked between the dead rose and the Fey's bleeding palm. He finally let out a weak chuckle. "That last part wasn't supposed to happen, right?"

"What do you think?" Earlier, the question might have been fierce and angry, but now, the Fey's voice was simply tired. He stared down at the small holes that the thorns had cut into his hand, then reached up and wearily undid the ties that held his mask in place, allowing it to fall down onto the ground. He didn't pick it up. "Magic is a difficult thing, especially our kind." Sighing heavily, he turned to look up at Alfred. "If there's nothing else you want, your Majesty, I think I would like to go home."

"Oh." Alfred stepped away from him, looking the Fey over from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the newly exposed thick brows and lightly freckled cheeks, though his gaze kept flickering over to the dead rose. He knew what he should do, what would be expected of him, and that was to bring the Fey back inside and turn him over to his parents and the soldiers. Only a little while earlier, he would have done it gladly. But now, things were different. Now, he was not sure if he would be able to sentence the Fey like that without being drowned in his own guilt, because no matter how badly that magic demonstration had ended, the Fey had still shown it to him, even though Alfred hadn't forced him.

The Fey was still looking at him with those tired eyes, waiting for an answer. Alfred fumbled through his thoughts. The right answer was in there, and he was almost sure he knew what it was, but what if he was wrong? What if it turned out badly? He glanced up at the Fey again, meeting that weary stare, and he knew what he had to say. He sighed. "Go home. I'm not going to do anything to you."

"Thank you," the Fey said after a moment, and he smiled again, just a tiny, awkward quirk of his lips, before turning and beginning to walk away, out deeper into the gardens.

But before he could get too far, something leaped into Alfred's mind and he took a step forward, one arm outstreched. "Wait!" The Fey flinched at his call and looked back over his shoulder. Alfred smiled sheepishly. "Can I at least know your name?"

"My name?" the Fey asked curiously, as if that was the strangest question he'd ever heard. Alfred supposed that in some ways it was- who would have expected a Human to ask for the name of a Fey? He almost expected the Fey to shake his head and keep on walking, but instead those thin lips opened and formed a few simple words. "Arthur. My name is Arthur."

"Arthur," Alfred repeated. The name seemed to fit. His smile, though still awkward, grew in strength. "I'm Alfred."

"Alfred." The Fey- no, Arthur smiled in return, just a little thing. "No more your Royal Highness, then, I suppose. Goodbye, Alfred." Without another word, he continued to walk away, and was soon lost in the maze of flowerbeds and trees.

Alfred stared into the empty air for several long minutes after Arthur had vanished. "Arthur," he said again, voice barely more than a whisper. It sounded so much like a Human name. He'd read the wild, multisyllabic names of Fey generals and warriors in his history books, but now that a simple Arthur was resounding around in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe they had gotten them wrong. As he thought, his gaze strayed down to the ground by his feet and found the mask that Arthur had left behind. He knelt to pick it up, running his fingers over the leafy pattern and marvelling at the delicacy. None of the leathersmiths he knew would have been able to create such a beautiful thing.

Still deep in his own thoughts, Alfred reached up to remove his own mask, allowing the blue and silver leather to fall away, and replaced it with Arthur's green and gold one. It didn't quite fit. He chuckled at the way it pressed against his nose and didn't quite match up to his eyes, and removed it again, but didn't throw it aside. Instead, he tucked it into one of the fold-like pockets inside his cloak. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he wanted to keep it.

Sliding his own mask back into place, Alfred drew in a deep breath and began his walk back towards the castle. His mother would be inside, impatient and annoyed, and she would be expecting some kind of answers about what he had been doing, answers which he didn't have. He couldn't just tell her that he'd left the ball to speak with a Fey, after all.

Oddly enough, however, he found that he wasn't worried. There was a small warmth settled snuggly in his chest, one that he was certain hadn't been there earlier. But no matter what had caused it, it gave him that extra courage to face up to anything that came his way, even the wrath of the Queen.

* * *

><p>AN- Second chapter! I hope it doesn't feel too rushed? I can't spend the whole story with them doing nothing but bitching at each other, after all, so now they can just be awkward.

This is a scene which was actually requested in the prompt, a meeting between Alfred and Arthur during a ball. I didn't make it their first meeting, but I thought it could count because it is Very Important. Was fun to write, too.

Oh, and as for the question I received in a review about the causes of the Great War, you're right. It was very much racism and intolerance from both sides. I'm trying to show that through Al and Arthur, as in, they're the generation that heard all the stories and have had that racism passed down to them, but at the same time, have never really participated and so can change more easily. If that makes sense at all.

The title of this fic, by the way, is a reference to the Reconstruction, aka the period after the American Civil War in which the country rebuilt itself. I thought it made sense, at least?

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Future updates should be about this quick as well.


	3. Chapter 3

They met again. It was only a few months later this time, not a whole lonely year, and thick drifts of snow covered the grounds outside, piling up on windowsills and shimmering in the daylight. Alfred had never been much of a winter child, born in the middle of the summer as he was, but even he had to admit that it could be beautiful. The delicate way the flakes drifted down, and the glittering spirals of the icicles… Winter in the Kingdom of Spades was a sight to behold.

That night, though, as Alfred pulled the folds of his cloak tighter around himself and shivered slightly, the winter was only cold. He frowned into the fire, only barely listening to the conversation of the women reclining on the couchess around him. His mother really was starting to get desperate as his nineteenth birthday drew nearer and nearer. Hundreds of young women were being paraded in front of him, often under the guise of intimate little gatherings like this, his mother just hoping he would choose one of them. After the third try, he'd informed her that he had seen all these girls before and still wasn't interested, and wouldn't be no matter how many times they met up, but the Queen refused to give in. In some ways Alfred supposed he should have been thankful for that- she was doing it for his own good, after all- but it was just getting so irritating.

The warm fire crackled in the hearth, and Alfred finally looked up from his own brooding to gaze around at all his companions. They didn't seem to have noticed his lack of attention, or at least they weren't reacting to it, and were still chatting merrily away with his mother. Weddings seemed to be the main topic of the conversation, much to Alfred's dismay. Every now and then, a flirtacious glance would be cast his way, highlighted by the glow of the fireplace, and he would studiously look at something else as if he hadn't noticed. Those massive brass candleholders on the mantle really were marvelously detailed, and had the drapes by the windows always looked so soft?

"Alfred," his mother called suddenly, startling him from his in-depth perusal of the drapes, "what would you think about that?"

Alfred blinked at her, then at all the other young women who were looking at him, waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat. "I, well… Could you repeat that?"

The Queen frowned. "Alfred, are you feeling alright? You've been staring off at nothing for ages now." Her eyes roved across his face, searching for any signs of illness. "Should I call the physician? I'm sure one of those new bloodletting techniques he's been talking about would help. Or maybe I should summon one of those odd little witch women from the city?"

Both suggestions made Alfred's stomach churn. He'd had only one encounter with the royal physician, which had made him swear never to get sick again, and the so-called witches from the city were actually some of the most frightening people he had ever met. "I don't think I need either of those, mother," he said stiffly, shifting beneath all the women's worried stares. He had to get out of there. "In fact, I think I'll be just fine if I go outside for some fresh air."

"Outside?" his mother demanded as he rose to his feet. "Alfred, darling, it's freezing cold out there! If you're not sick now, you will be from standing out in that snow."

"Don't worry," Alfred assured her, smiling widely and falsely around at them all. "I won't be out there for too long." Before anyone could say anything else that could potentially have ruined his plans of escape, he ran- more like walked rather quickly- out of the little parlor and down the hallways to the nearest balcony. The lone servant who passed him in the hallway stared at him in shock. Alfred just waved briskly and kept on his way.

When he finally reached the balcony and threw the doors open, the cold air rushed in, nipping at his exposed face and ears. He didn't mind though, not if meant being able to escape his mother and her girls. Stepping out into the night, his boots sinking slightly into the gathered snow along the balcony floor, he moved forward until he could brush off the snow upon the railing and rest his arms there instead. He breathed out a long sigh and watched his breath steam in the air. It was nice out there, peaceful, filled with that soft quiet that seemed to slowly relax him.

"What do you think you're doing out here? You'll freeze!"

Alfred jolted upright, head whipping back and forth as he tried to locate the owner of that voice. "Who said that? Who's there?"

"I'm down here."

Now that he thought about it, the voice did seem to be coming from below. Alfred leaned forward against the railing and peered down at the ground-level balcony beneath him. The flickers of candlelight and fire illuminated familiar pale skin and pointed ears and a pair of vibrant green eyes. "Arthur?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur immediately looked embarrassed, though the bright blush might have been from the piercing cold instead of any emotion. "I'm not entirely sure," he muttered, turning his gaze down to his gloved hands and not looking at Alfred. "I was curious, I suppose. I told myself last time that I wouldn't come back here again, and yet here I am."

"Couldn't resist my appeal, could you?" Alfred teased, and then froze, his smile falling away as he realized just who he was teasing. He and Arthur might have parted on better terms the last time, but he was still Human and Arthur was still Fey. This wasn't his brother or a friend or even one of the blushing ladies inside. He stared wide-eyed down at Arthur, not sure how to take his words back, waiting to see how Arthur would respond.

Unfortunately, Arthur seemed to be responding exactly the same way, staring up at Alfred with his jaw hanging open slightly. It was only after a few moments of the two of them standing there, the cold biting at them, that he finally managed to speak. "Your appeal? Very unlikely, because I don't see a single appealing thing about you." The words were brash, but his tone was hesitant, halting, as if he expected Alfred to start yelling or do something horrible in response.

Those words, though, set off a little spark of warmth in Alfred's chest, and he laughed lightly, an awkward smile settling on his lips. "Nothing appealing? I think the girls inside would beg to differ." He waited again with baited breath.

Arthur's eyes flickered across Alfred's face, lingering on his eyes and mouth. "Girls?" he said finally, less hesitant than before and with a slight quirk of his lips. "What do you have in there, a harem?"

And Alfred did laugh this time, really laughed. He leaned further forward against the railing, resting his elbows atop it and his chin in his hands. "Not a harem! Oh gods, no." The mirth faded away, and with it went most of the happiness in his smile. "They're all potential partners for me. My mother is desperate for me to hurry up and pick one of them to be my bride."

"Desperate?" asked Arthur, his thick eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Why is she desperate?" He paused. "Unless that's something inappropriate to ask, in which case don't answer."

"No, it's fine," Alfred replied with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. "You've known since the beginning that I'm the Crown Prince, so these kind of things aren't really a secret." He sighed and turned his gaze up towards the sky, peering up at the crystalline constellations he knew so well. His nose and ears were beginning to ache from the cold. "It's a tradition here in Spades for the next King to marry his Queen on his twentieth birthday. I'm eighteen now, eighteen and a half really, and I still haven't found the girl I want to marry."

Arthur made a thoughtful sound down below, though Alfred didn't look back at him. "Why don't you simply choose one of the women inside and be done with it, then?"

"Because I'm a fool." Alfred finally looked down towards Arthur again, smiling crookedly. "You've told me so before yourself. Not about this, I suppose, but it still applies. It's just…" He lifted his head from his hands and laced his fingers together with another sigh. "I don't want to marry some random girl I don't know anything about. I want to wait and find the One, you know?" Then he chuckled and shook his head. "And I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. It's not like you can do anything about it." Not to mention the fact that Arthur probably had no traditions similar to this one where he came from.

"Maybe not, but I think I can understand." The firelight played in dancing patterns across Arthur's hair and skin, and set his eyes alight, and Alfred found him oddly distracted by that as he tried to listen to what Arthur was saying. "I can't say that I've ever been in the same position, seeing as I'm not royalty in any sense, but to want to marry someone you love instead of simply out of obligation? That is sound reasoning to me, at least."

"You really think so?" Alfred asked quietly.

"I do." Arthur met his gaze straight on for a moment. "If you're not finding the woman you love here, perhaps you're looking in the wrong place. Perhaps you should try searching someplace new."

"Someplace knew? Like where? I've gone through every girl in this Kingdom and dozens from each of the other Three." Alfred shook his head. "I don't know where else I could look."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together, his lips pulling back into a partially confused smirk. "Well,if that's the case, don't ask me. I was only trying to be helpful, not solve all your problems for you, and it's not as though I have any better ideas about finding a wife."

That last part caught Alfred's attention for some reason. "You're not married?"

"No. I'm perfectly happy with my flowers and my books, so why do I need a wife?" At Alfred's curious look, Arthur elaborated slightly. "I'm a librarian, in the palace library. The books there are the best companions I could ever want."

Alfred hummed lightly in response. He'd always assumed that Arthur must have been some kind of royalty as well, even though there had been no basis for it and he was probably just trying to fit Arthur into a category to try and understand him, but the idea of him being a librarian seemed to fit with his appearance and temperament somehow. Grinning, he opened his mouth to reply.

Right as he did so, a gust of freezing cold wind rushed past him, tugging at the ends of his cloak, forcing a cough out of his throat, and sending a wracking shiver down his spine. His hands began to feel a little numb, so he rubbed them together in hopes of bringing some warmth back. A burning sensation finally began to throb in the tips of his fingers. By then, though, he had completely forgotten what he'd been about to say to Arthur. It had been something about being a librarian, something amusing…

"Alfred." Arthur was frowning up at him, the expression highlighted by the light of the fires indoors. "Go back inside. You're not dressed properly for being out here in the cold. You'll get sick."

It was true, of course, and even Alfred wasn't proud enough to deny that and try to brave the chill for much longer, but he couldn't resist the odd appeal of speaking to Arthur. He leaned forward further over the railing. "Hey, you can't tell me what to do. I'm the Crown Prince, remember?"

Arthur shrugged. "You're not my Prince, so I think I can tell you whatever I want." He was still smiling faintly, though. "Now go back inside, your Royal Highness, before you catch too much of a chill."

"Alright, fine, I will." But even as Alfred lifted himself off the railing and brushed snow off of his sleeves and tunic, he hesitated and glanced down at Arthur again. "You have to do the same. You'll get sick if you stay out here too long, too."

There was silence for a moment, and Alfred was beginning to wonder and worry a little whether he'd just insulted Arthur somehow, when Arthur finally replied. "I will." Brilliant green eyes met Alfred's blue. "Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Arthur." He wasn't sure what to make of the words- they sounded different than the way they had been speaking before, whether that was good or bad- but at least Arthur was still talking to him. Waving slightly, he tuned to move back inside, and paused right at the doorway. "Arthur," he called out again, not looking over the balcony and not even knowing if Arthur was still there, "we're going to meet again, right?"

A soft chuckle resounded from below. "If we've managed to meet so many times before without trying, I have no doubt something will bring us together again. Now get out of the cold, Alfred." Light footsteps, crunching in the snow, began and faded slowly away, and Alfred knew that he was alone out there in the night. He smiled as he stepped back into the warmer air of the castle halls and closed the balcony doors behind him.

When he reemerged into the parlor where the Queen and the young women were still waiting, his cheeks flushed with cold and a strange sense of sheer happiness, the Queen immediately rose to her feet. "Alfred!" she cried. "You said you were only going to be gone a few moments. You've left all these young ladies alone with your mother, of all things, when they came here for you." Then she seemed to take in his appearance, the obviously frosty skin and the wet patches on his arms and chest and feet where he'd touched the snow. "And gods, you look like you've been rolling around out there. You're going to get sick if you stay in those wet things, darling. Go change, we'll wait for you just a bit longer."

Alfred shook his head, smiling widely at her. "Don't worry about it, mother, I'm fine. It's just a little water." And it was just a little water, after all, especially when compared to the warmth that had bloomed in his chest and stomach.

She frowned, her eyes searching across his face, but if she found anything odd about him she didn't mention it. "If you're sure. Well, come join us around the fireplace and warm yourself up a bit, at least!" The other young ladies echoed the request, some of them giggling behind their lacy fans, but Alfred didn't find it quite so annoying this time.

As he sat down in his chair again, relaxing into the softness of the cushions, and basked in the warm glow of the fire, he began to chatter politely with all the women. But that politeness was second nature to a young man born into the royalty of Spades, and so even though Alfred seemed to be completely engaged in the conversation, his mind was elsewhere. He thought of footsteps in the snow, and pale moonlight, and bright green eyes.

The warmth inside him only seemed to grow stronger.

* * *

><p>AN- And chapter three. Another meeting chapter! Once again, I hope the pace isn't too fast- I was trying to keep everything from dragging, which is why there will only be ten chapters or so in this story instead of the fifteen or twenty that it could take.

Anyway, I received some questions about why Arthur was at the masquerade in the first place, and why Alfred didn't ask him about it. The answers are relatively simple. Arthur was curious, just as he is in this chapter, and just as he was when Alfred first found him in the woods. He wanted to see what the Humans were like. However, this isn't really that important to the story, as far as I can see. And second, Alfred didn't ask because it just never came up in their conversation. I'm very bad at forcing specific dialogue, as I feel it's clunky, so when Alfred didn't seem to have any inclination to ask, I didn't make him. Besides, it's unlikely Arthur would have answered him to begin with.

I do appreciate the questions, though! Feel free to ask more. I just hope I haven't confused anyone with what I've left out.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you keep on enjoying!


	4. Chapter 4

The seasons passed, through winter to spring to summer to just about autumn, and of course, Alfred and Arthur met again. They met several times, each interspersed by a month or two, and then a few weeks, and then possibly a week at most, and then simply days. Each and every time, the tense awkwardness that had settled around them at the beginning seemed to fade away little by little, and somewhere at the end of spring Alfred had actually shoved Arthur playfully, and instead of freezing or yelling or running away, Arthur shoved right back. At one point later, Arthur had casually mentioned friendship, and they ended up spending the day running around in the gardens in the pouring rain playing like children. They had even taken the risk of sneaking inside the castle one evening, careful to hide in the shadows at the sound of footsteps, and then spent the night exchanging old stories in Alfred's room as if they were small boys. The gardens around the castle had become their sanctuary, somewhere that they could spend time together and no one else would see. And on Alfred's end, that warmth that bloomed inside of him whenever he was around Arthur grew more and more powerful, and at the same time more and more clear.

But at the same time, Alfred's life was becoming even harder. His nineteenth birthday had come and gone with still no announcements of any bride, and his parents were starting to worry about having to force him into marriage at twenty. Even Matthew, who was usually so supportive of whatever Alfred decided to do, kept glancing at him nervously. He had seen hundreds and hundreds of suitable young women, and yet he had turned them all down. The city streets were buzzing with rumors. Everyone was wondering just what exactly he was waiting for.

Had they asked him straight up, Alfred could easily have answered that. It was the same as it had always been- his One True Love. Nothing more, nothing less. And as time went by, and the slight chill of autumn won out over the warmth of summer, he found himself seeing more clearly just who that person was. There was no mistaking it.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred called out as he jogged the last few steps down the garden path he'd been following. The Spades roses were beginning to bloom around him, bright splashes of blue against the golds and reds of the autumn leaves. It was a beautiful sight to behold, but Alfred wasn't paying it any attention at the moment. No, all he wanted to see was the man he'd arranged to meet.

"Ah, Alfred, you're here." Arthur rose from where he'd been kneeling beside one of the flowerbeds and smiled. The smile was just a smile. There was no hidden meanings behind it, no secrets, but it still sent that set aflame that flicker of warmth deep inside Alfred's stomach, and he smiled back even wider.

"So what did you want to show me?" he asked, stepping up right beside Arthur and peering down into the flowers. He didn't see anything unusual, but then again, Arthur had shown him some very normal things in the past, things that Alfred would never have thought to pay attention to before that. Somehow, just the way Arthur could speak so enthusiastically about tiny things like insects or flower petals would make anything interesting.

This time wasn't any different. Arthur positively beamed at him, reaching out to grab him by the wrist and lead him deeper into the maze of the gardens. "I've been working hard on this recently," he said over his shoulder, still smiling. "It's still not perfect, I'm afraid, but I'm coming so close, Alfred, and I know I'm almost there. Just a bit more work and everything will settle right into place."

As Arthur continued rambling and dragging Alfred along, never saying exactly what he was talking about, Alfred couldn't help the way his smile softened with affection. Because it was affection that he felt, was it not? The way his heartbeat fluttered in his chest, how his wrist burned with wonderful warmth where Arthur was touching him, how he looked forward to these meetings between them far more than ever he had for anyone else… There was no other word for it, no other explanation. No, actually, there was one, but he wasn't quite sure about that one yet. He didn't want to jump to a conclusion that could destroy what he and Arthur had already, not when all he wanted was to spend more time with the man. He would much rather just keep quiet about it all.

It felt as though them mere seconds to reach Arthur's intended destination, though that might have been because Alfred was basking in the sensation of Arthur's touch. Whatever the case, it came as quite a shock to him when Arthur suddenly stopped and released his wrist. Alfred blinked and looked around. It seemed that Arthur had brought him back to the place where they had first spoken in the gardens, one year earlier. The willow tree still hung gracefully down over the calm waters of the pond, and rosebushes bloomed around it all, but this time, the vague memory of his mother describing the area as a place for forbidden lovers to meet in secret refused to leave his mind. It was just so similar to his and Arthur's circumstances, minus the lovers bit. A faint blush began to creep across Alfred's face at the thought.

"Alfred?" A pale hand waved back and forth in front of his eyes, and he looked down at Arthur's worried face. "Alfred, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"A ghost? No, I'm fine, sorry. I was just thinking." Alfred forced out a laugh, glancing up at the branches of the willow tree as he tried to will his blush away. As he stared up at it, though, he couldn't help but wonder about their situation, and he found himself speaking before he'd thought the words through. "Do you know what they say about this place, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned at him, shaking his head. "No, I don't. Are you sure you're alright? You still look a bit off."

"I'm fine, don't worry." It should have been easy to pretend to drop the other conversation and pretend it had never begun. Now that Alfred had started speaking, however, he couldn't seem to stop. "When I was younger, my mother told me that this place in the gardens is special. She said that this is where lovers come to see each other when they're forbidden to be together in public." His gaze roamed across Arthur's face, searching, searching. He wanted to know. "I always thought that was kind of romantic. Don't you?"

Arthur's eyes widened, his breath catching slightly in his throat, before he turned his face away. It was all so subtle, but Alfred was looking for it, really looking, and he saw it clear as day. His heart skipped a beat. Did this mean…? Then Arthur was drawing in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and murmuring, "Yes, it's very romantic indeed. Now, do you want to see what I have to show you or not?"

The hopeful fluttering in Alfred's chest died at once. He forced his lips to curve up into a smile. "Right. Show me whatever it is, then." He must have been imagining things, seeing what he wanted to see. That was the obvious answer.

"Right," Arthur repeated, his voice a little too loud after the softness from before. He winced but didn't bother to try again. Instead, he turned away from Alfred, moving towards the nearest rosebush and the brilliant blue flowers blooming there. After a moment, Alfred followed him quietly.

It was the same bush where Arthur had showed his magic for the first time, where everything had been going so well and then collapsed in a charred, twisted mess. Alfred thought that was horribly like what their friendship was doing at the moment. But he didn't say that aloud, just watched as Arthur nervously rubbed his palms against the tops of his thighs and then reached out to cup a rose between his hands.

And then nothing happened. "Arthur?" Alfred asked tentatively after a moment.

"Hush," Arthur replied without looking back at him. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Oh, so that was what this was all about. Alfred glanced warily between Arthur's frowning face and the delicate rose petals. Arthur had said he'd been working on his magic, but he had refused to show Alfred how far he'd gotten for months now, and Alfred thought he was more than justified in being a little worried about the possible outcomes. He looked up at Arthur's face once again, taking in the wonderfully thick brows and determined green eyes and thin lips pressed into a tight line, before turning back to the rose. There was no point in admiring Arthur if it only made himself feel worse about what had just happened between them.

Arthur breathed out slowly, screwing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them again with an even more determined stare. The flower in his hands began to glow faintly. As Alfred watched, the blue petals began to fold outwards, curling over Arthur's palms, twisting and curving into beautiful spirals. The center rose up, and the stem wound itself between Arthur's fingers, and the leaves grew until they could fan out wide. Alfred found himself looking at a ship, rolling across a choppy sea of green. Then Arthur made a small, tense sound, and it shifted, changed, and became a knight in vibrant blue armor.

"Wow," Alfred whispered lowly. The feeling was warranted. Arthur had obviously been working hard on this, for he was holding it far longer than he had been able to before. The designs were even more complex. But there was still a nagging little voice at the back of Alfred's mind, reminding him of what had happened, of what could still happen.

And as if it had been reading his thoughts, the worst came to pass. Arthur sucked in a deep breath, his fingers twitched slightly, and this time, Alfred saw exactly the moment where his concentration waned. In that split second, the glow around the flower faded. The petals jerked like they'd been shocked, beginning to shrivel and char in Arthur's hands. Thorns threatened to dig into the pale skin of his palms and fingers.

Before Alfred even realized he was moving, he felt his hands curl around Arthur's fingers, intending to shield them from the pain that was sure to come. They were soft, just like he'd learned over the course of their friendship, and just touching them was enough to send a spark of warmth shooting through his body.

Except that it wasn't the same kind of warmth that he'd come to expect. No, this was a real spark, this was something entirely different, and it sent a tremor rolling across Alfred's skin, starting from where his fingers were touching Arthur's hands. But even as he opened his mouth to demand some kind of answer, his gaze fell back on the blackened rose. The words that he was about to say died in his throat.

The rose wasn't dead. Alfred was sure it had been a few seconds earlier, had seen it with his own eyes, but it wasn't. In between Arthur's palms rested a Spades rose in full bloom, larger and more vibrant than any that Alfred had ever seen before. It was so alive, so beautiful. The petals almost seemed to be pulsing with raw energy, shimmering in the autumn light in a way that swirled the colors from normal blue to brilliant violet to passionate, romantic red. Alfred's fingertips tingled with magic where they touched Arthur, and the rose only bloomed further, the leaves curling up to frame the flower in a loving embrace.

"Oh Lady," Arthur whispered beside him. Alfred looked up from the rose and found himself staring at Arthur's flushed, disbelieving face. "No. This wasn't supposed to happen, no, no. Lady, Lady…"

"Arthur." Alfred's voice was low, hoarser than he'd intended. He desperately tried to meet Arthur's gaze. "Arthur, what does this mean? Tell me what this means." He thought he knew- he knew that he knew- but he had to hear it from Arthur's own lips.

"It's…" Arthur met his eyes briefly, those green irises alight with fear and worry and shame. "It's nothing, Alfred, it doesn't mean anything. It's simply some kind of magical accident. It- It could happen to anyone, I'm certain-"

"No. No, Arthur, I know you're lying." Alfred squeezed Arthur's hands lightly, feeling the same bolt of magic as before, and he knew that the rose would be blooming even more beautifully. "I can see what this means. Please, Arthur, just say it. The rose, your magic, how you looked when we were talking… I know that I'm right about this. Please, I need to hear you say it."

Arthur shook his head, clenching his eyes shut so that Alfred couldn't look into them. "I won't. You're wrong, you're wrong. I don't feel that way about you. I can't." But his shoulders were trembling, and that red blush refused to leave his face and ears.

"You can't?" Alfred asked. "Why not?" Arthur only shook his head again, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Arthur, please. Please tell me. I think I'm falling in love with you, Arthur, so please, please don't act like this is nothing. I think I love you, really love you, and-"

"Stop!" Arthur cried out. His eyes shot open, wide and helpless, and he pulled away from Alfred's hold on his hands, dropping the rose back into the bush in the process. It lay there, beautiful and so alive, but neither of them looked down at it. They were too entranced by one another. "Stop, Alfred," Arthur mumbled. "Stop. Even if I did feel that way about you, even if I did love you, it wouldn't work, don't you understand? It would never work between us, never."

Alfred stepped forward, holding out his empty palms, begging for Arthur to touch them again. "You won't even give it a chance? I saw how you looked at me. I can hear it in your voice. How do you know it wouldn't work? You never know until you try."

"It's too much to hope for." Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing ever works out the way you hope. That only happens in the old stories, Alfred, where the prince whisks the princess off her feet and carries her off to happily ever after. But there is no such thing as happily ever after, not for real people, not for us."

"There could be," Alfred insisted. "We could make one. You're the one I've been looking for, Arthur. You're the reason why I could never love any of those girls, because it was you I wanted all along, even when I didn't know it. Please, let me show you how good this can be. I can be that prince for you." He took another step towards Arthur, hoping, praying, that the Fey wouldn't flee.

But Arthur backed away, looking at him as if he was afraid that Alfred would pounce, yet his eyes glinted with longing. "Don't, Alfred! So what if I love you? That doesn't change anything. Can you really not see why this won't work? This isn't some old tale. I'm a Fey, Alfred, and you're a Human! And we're both men. I can't give you an heir. Even if we tried to be together, no one would accept it. They would tear us apart. It would never work." He bit his lip and stared down at his hands where they were clenched into the fabric of his tunic. He looked so alone, so afraid, that Alfred wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him into his arms.

"I don't care about those things," Alfred murmured. He didn't step forward this time, but he reached out, pleading. "I don't care if no one accepts it. Arthur, if you love me too, all I want is you."

"Why?" Arthur demanded. "Why do you want me? What reason have I ever given you to want me, of all people? Look at me. I'm stubborn and demanding and I always find something to tease you about, and that doesn't even begin to describe how I was when we first met. How could you possibly love me?" His voice was too loud, resounding off the willow tree and out through the gardens, and Alfred was struck by the horrible idea that they could get caught, but there was so much desperation in Arthur's expression that he couldn't voice it aloud.

"I love all of those things. I mean, look at me, Arthur! I'm exactly the same." Alfred moved forward, slow, as if Arthur was a frightened animal. "How could I not fall in love with you? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Arthur shivered. His body was tense and trembling, his eyes wide as they stared at Alfred, but he didn't run this time. "It won't work," he whispered. "Alfred, no matter what we feel for each other, it won't work. Please, try to understand. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to be the one who makes you turn your back on your Kingdom."

The words made sense, and that hurt the most. Alfred swallowed, his throat tight, and reached out to grasp Arthur's hands gently in his own. "I love you," he said simply. "No matter what, that's not going to change. I'll fight for you until the end if I have to."

"Idiot." But Arthur didn't pull his hands away. "You should forget about me, Alfred. I'll leave and never come back, and then you'll find your Queen and marry her, and you'll be the greatest ruler that the Four Kingdoms have ever seen. A foolish Fey librarian should not get in the way of that."

"You're not foolish." And Alfred kissed him. It was awkward and somewhat inexperienced since Alfred had only ever snuck kisses from the serving girls before, but that didn't matter at all because Arthur immediately responded, clutching at Alfred's hands and kissing back with a fierce passion that only made Alfred love him more. The whole world shrunk down to just the two of them, pressed against each other in that secret corner of the gardens, afraid and desperate but together.

It ended all too soon. Arthur pulled away with a gasp, staring up at Alfred with watery, tearful eyes. "We can't do this. I love you, Alfred, I do, but there is too much at stake here. I won't let you give up everything for me."

"That's not your choice to make." Alfred reached up to run his thumbs against the flushed skin of Arthur's cheeks, his heartbeat beating a wild, painful rhythm in his chest. "I told you, I'll fight for this. I'll fight for you. No matter what happens, it will always be you, and if I have to give up the throne for you, well, I'll do it. I would rather spend my life by your side than be forced to marry someone I don't love to be King."

"But what about me?" Arthur whispered. "What about my life? I have a job that I love, Alfred, and I have responsibilities that I can't walk away from." He swallowed heavily.

Alfred drew in a deep breath and listened to it rattle. "I'm not going to force you. I would never do that. If you really don't want to go anywhere with this, I'll… I'll let it go. But I'm still going to love you, Arthur. You can't change that."

"Oh, Alfred…" Arthur cupped the sides of Alfred's face and pulled him down into another brief but passionate kiss. "I do want this. I want it so badly it's frightening. But I'm trying to think of us, to think of what we need, not just what we want. If I made you walk away from the throne, Alfred, you would never forgive me. You know that. And if I left behind my books and my library, I would never be able to forgive you, either." He bit his lip, looking off to the side. "It won't work between us."

"But…" The words wouldn't come. Alfred didn't even know what he wanted to say. All that managed to escape his lips was a helpless, "But I love you."

"I know." And Arthur was pulling away, stepping back, and he raised his hands when Alfred tried to follow. "I know you love me, and please, please understand that I love you, too. But it can't happen. We never should have come this far. So, I'm going to walk away, and I'm not going to come back. Forget about me and move on. Get married, take the throne, and rule like the great King I know you'll be, and forget about the silly librarian you once loved."

"No, Arthur!" Alfred cried desperately, striding forward, only to have Arthur step back again and again. Tears were beginning to build up in his eyes. "No, I won't forget you. Don't leave me here, please don't leave me! I need you."

"Let me go, Alfred. Just forget about me." Arthur was crying now, droplets running down over his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He looked ridiculous as he cried, his face red and blotchy, and Alfred loved him so much it hurt. But before Alfred could catch hold of him, Arthur was gone, fleeing through the gardens with the speed of a Fey, leaving Alfred to stand, frozen, in the place where their friendship had tentatively begun and then broken down around them.

Alfred stared at the spot where Arthur had vanished for a long time, unable to move or speak or even try to stop the tears that kept pouring down over his face. Arthur was gone. He was really gone. He was never going to come back. Alfred's legs trembled beneath him and gave out, and he fell down to his knees in the neatly trimmed grass. One long, heartbroken sob wrenched itself from his throat. He curled in on himself, burying his face in his hands and not even attempting to muffle the sound of his misery. Everything he had ever dreamed about, all of the happy thoughts of his future, were breaking and crumbling. His One True Love, the only person he had ever wanted, had turned his back and walked away.

Without thinking, Alfred reached out to grab the rose that Arthur's magic had touched, breaking it from its stem and cradling it within his palms. It was still beautiful, still perfect, brilliant and alive with its vibrant colors. He brought it to his face, inhaling the sweet smell, and his tears fell harder. "Arthur," he whispered against the soft petals, "oh, Arthur."

He would go back to the castle, of course, and he would return to the life of a Crown Prince of Spades, but there would be something missing. Alfred's heart, raw and broken, would seal itself away, and the only person who could have fixed it would be the one who had promised never to return.

* * *

><p>AN- And chapter four and romance and angst.

Before anyone kills me for doing a timeskippy first paragraph, please don't! I didn't want this whole story to be full of chapters where they meet, they talk, and they leave, they meet, they talk, and they leave, over and over again. It would be boring, first off, and secondly, I would never have the patience to write it all. I just couldn't do that so many times. However, I at least hope that it isn't confusing, and that it's still enjoyable?

Now, we're actually getting somewhere. Six chapters or so to go!


	5. Chapter 5

Spring had come again, and with it came the beautiful blossoming of flowers and the cheerful songs of birds. The townspeople were beginning to put out the decorations for the annual spring festival, complete with silky ribbons and bouquets of cut flowers and tables for the assortment of food that would be set out for all to enjoy. Space was being cleared for the dancing that always took place, and musicians were tuning up their instruments in preparation. Usually, the two Princes would come down into the town to help with setting up, filling the fields with their laughter and voices, but this year, only Matthew arrived. He carefully avoided any questions about where Alfred was and why he hadn't come.

The reality was that Alfred had been spending more and more time alone, either in his rooms or the gardens or immersed in various books in the castle library. That last one was the most confusing to his parents and brother and servants, for Alfred had never shown any great interest in books before, but now he always seemed to carry one around with him. His responses to questions were curt and blunt, and he refused to meet with any of the young women his mother tried to introduce to him. Though he used to have a large appetite, he only picked at his food. His face became hard and grim. Smiles were few and far between. The cheerful, happy temperament that he had been so loved for had vanished into thin air. He carried out all of his responsibilitues with more fervor and determination than he used to, but there was no joy in his movements. Something had changed, something huge and something bad, and no one but Alfred had any idea what it was. Anyone who asked about it was either ignored or glared at, and the inhabitants of the castle quickly stopped asking.

Time went on, and soon enough, the day of the spring festival was upon them. Even the newly reclusive Crown Prince wasn't foolish enough to refuse to go, but though he arrived in the royal carriage with his family and was dressed in fine but more casual clothes, his face was set in a neutral, impassive expression. The townsfolk who approached him to talk ended up shying away, and even the young ladies who had been so desperate for his attention during the years before left him alone. That was fine by Alfred. He sat off to the side of the dancers, a history book propped open on his lap, and lost himself in the words written on the page, waiting for it to be time to return to the castle.

Before long, though, he heard the telltale sounds of someone's feet approaching, and then the creak of wood as that person sat down on the chair beside him. He didn't look up from his book. If they had something to say to him, they would say it, and then they would both go on with their lives.

"Alfred," came Matthew's soft voice, "please tell me what's wrong? You're worrying me."

Of course it would be Matthew. Alfred could never just ignore his brother, not after all they'd been through together, so he closed his book with a sigh and looked up into worried violet eyes. "It's nothing, Matthew. I'm just a little tired. Don't worry about it."

"Stop acting like I'm stupid," Matthew snapped, and Alfred winced. When his brother's voice developed that tone, he knew he wasn't going to be able to lie his way out of the conversation. "I know something is wrong. I just don't know what. Is this about finding a wife? Did something happen?" He reached out to lay one hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Please, Al, just tell me."

Alfred sighed again and shook his head. "It's not what you think, Matt. Talking about it isn't going to do anything." No, the only thing that would help him was Arthur's return, but it wasn't like that was going to happen any time soon. "I'll deal with it myself."

"Oh." Matthew frowned, his gaze searching across Alfred's face. "Can you at least tell me what it was? We don't have to talk about it any more than that if you don't want to, but I hope you do. I'm worried about how sad you've been acting recently."

Chuckling humorlessly at that, Alfred set his book back on the table behind them and turned to fully face his brother. "You really want to know?" Matthew nodded. "Then fine, I'll tell you. It is about getting married. I met someone, Matt, I met someone and they were everything I ever wanted. It took me a while to realize it, but when I did, I knew they were the One."

"Then why don't you tell mother?" Matthew asked, confused. "She'd be ecstatic to know that you found someone!"

"She wouldn't approve. This person… They're not what people expect to see in a Queen, and they knew it. When I told them that I loved them, they turned me down because it would never work between us. We would never be accepted if we got married. They walked away from me because they weren't willing to take the throne from me." Alfred's hands clenched into fists in his lap. "But I would have given up the throne for them."

"Alfred, you keep saying 'them', not 'she'," Matthew said slowly. "This person isn't a woman, is it?"

"No." Alfred smiled wryly. It hurt his cheeks. "That's not even the biggest problem, though. Even if he were a woman, he still wouldn't agree to marry me. I know his reasons were right, but they didn't make him walking away from me any less painful."

Matthew squeezed his shoulder gently. "He didn't love you back, Al? Then that's his loss."

"He did love me back," Alfred said, voice quiet. "He told me that he did, and he kissed me, and he still said no." Hearing it out loud, spoken by his own voice, hurt more than he'd expected. He drew in a deep, steady breath and straightened his shoulders, staring fixedly down at his hands. "I know he was right, though. I'm going to be the King. Whichever girl mother picks out for me when I turn twenty will be a good Queen, I'm sure of it. And right now, I need to focus on performing my duties as the Crown Prince, not stupid children's stories about true love and happily ever after. I'm too old for that. The future King can't get caught up in-"

The slap caught him by surprise. He lurched forward and sideways, clutching one hand to his stinging cheek, mouth open and eyes wide. Turning to stare up at Matthew, confused and hurt and feeling like something important inside of him had cracked, he hunched over himself defensively. "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot," Matthew told him. His hand was still hovering in the air where he had slapped Alfred, as if getting ready for a second round if need be. "I don't know exactly what this man of yours said, but he was an idiot, too. Alfred, if you love him, because I know you still do, no matter what you're trying to show, then what are you doing here? This isn't where you want to be. You want to go find him, don't you? The Alfred I know, the Alfred I grew up with, would never just give up like this. Where did that Alfred go? I bet the miserable, broken one here in front of me isn't the same one that your mystery man fell in love with. He walked away from you and told you not to follow. How do you know he didn't want you to chase him?"

"Matthew…" Alfred stared up at him, breathless and startled. Whatever had cracked inside him before was beginning to break, and in his chest, something warm and soft was beginning to leak out. He recognized it, and it both terrified and exhilarated him. "Do you really think…?" he whispered.

"Alfred." With gentle but firm hands, Matthew grabbed the fabric of Alfred's tunic and stood up, dragging his brother up along with him. "You told me he loved you. I know he still does. You're one of the greatest men I've ever met, and I should know, because I've grown up with you, and I've seen every single part of you, even the ones you don't know you have. No one could forget you, Al, no matter how hard they tried. I have no doubt that this man, whoever he is, is waiting for you. All you have to do is catch him." He patted Alfred's shoulder. "Go get him."

"Go get him," Alfred repeated slowly. Warmth was filling the empty coldness inside of him, and his mind was running through memories of smiles and laughter and sadness and brilliant, bright, beautiful green eyes, and he knew what he needed to do. He grabbed the sides of Matthew's head, feeling the grin that pulled at his lips and spread them wider than they had been in months. "Gods, Matt, you're right! You're so right. What am I doing here? He's out there somewhere. He could be waiting for me. Hell, Arthur's waiting for me!" He shook his brother once. "Gods, I could kiss you but I won't, because that would just be strange."

Matthew laughed. "That's probably a good thing. Now go on, Al! Find this man of yours and show him you mean it."

"Yes. Yes!" Alfred shook Matthew again, his smile widening even further if that was at all possible, before pulling back and turning and taking off across the field, scattering dancers and vendors and anyone in his way as he ran. All of that warmth and energy flowed through his veins, pouring out through him, shining through his skin and his smile, and he felt more alive than he had in a long, long time. Every villager that he passed stared at him in awe.

"Alfred!" the King called out as Alfred ran past. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Sorry, father," Alfred yelled back, out of breath and smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt in the best way, "but I'm going to go do something that I should have done ages ago, and not even you can stop me now." His father called after him again, but he didn't hear the words, and honestly, he didn't care.

It felt like only seconds before he reached the edge of the fields where the horses were stabled. The guard tried to stop him, but Alfred vaulted over the side of the fence, landing on both feet inside and racing over to the nearest horse, a beautiul white one. He didn't pause to grab for a saddle, just swung himself up onto the creature's back. It reared in surprise. He hung on for dear life and grinned like a maniac, and when the guard ran in, he waved. "Sorry about this. I'll bring it back, I promise!"

And with that, he was off. The horse galloped through the fields, around crowds and past houses and farms. Alfred could hear cries of surprise and confusion, but overtop of all of them, he could hear Matthew's voice, screaming, "Go get him, Al! Go get him!"

* * *

><p>AN- And chapter five. No Arthur in this one! But lots of Matthew.

Thank you all so much for the constant support for me and this fic. I never expected it to get this popular this fast! I hope I can continue making it enjoyable, now that we've hit the halfway mark.


	6. Chapter 6

The only problem with Alfred's plan of finding Arthur and declaring his love all over again was that he had no idea where Arthur would be. None of the history texts he had written or any of the stories told by the soldiers mentioned the exact location of the Fey Kingdom, only briefly stated that it was somewhere in the forest. There weren't even any clues to which forest that specific one might have been.

And that was why Alfred was currently standing at the fork of a crossroads at sunset, glaring down first one way and then the other. The sign stated that one of them led to the borders of the Kingdom of Hearts, and the other went on through Spades, back to the royal capital. He certainly didn't want to go that way, not after how long he had been avoiding the soldiers and mercenaries that his parents had sent out after him, but though the Hearts Kingdom had always been a close ally, he doubted he would find refuge there either. He only wished he had some way of finding all of the forests that dotted the Four Kingdoms, no matter how small, and searching through them one after another. Of course, that was almost impossible.

Alfred let out an irritated groan, kicking at the cobbled road beneath his feet. The horse he'd stolen from the festival snorted at him, and he turned his glare towards it. "I wasn't looking for your input," he snapped. And there he was, talking to a horse of all things. Everything was not going to plan. He sighed and rested his hands on his hips. The sun had nearly vanished over the horizon, and he would need to set up some kind of camp for the night. Riding in the dark had not proven to be a good idea.

Soon enough, a makeshift camp had been set up in the small patch of trees a little ways beyond the fork of the road. Alfred had been getting more than enough practice in setting up his cloak as somewhat efficient roof, building up a small fire, and covering himself in leaves on the cold night, though luckily summer was coming and there were far fewer of those than there had been. His hunting knife, which he was glad he'd thought to bring to the festival, concealed beneath his clothes, held some of his nightly fears at bay. He never did tie up the horse. It seemed to realize that he hadn't just taken it without any reason, and though it did offer its negative opinion more often than Alfred would have liked, it appeared to be willing to stay with him until the end. Even though it was just a horse, it was nice to have at least some companionship.

Alfred sat by the side of his fire, his knees drawn up to his chest as he stared into the flickering flames. The night was warm enough that he didn't think he would need to create a blanket of leaves, but even though the sun had set and he had no reason for staying awake, he found that he wasn't tired at all. The past several days of running from his parents and the long reach of their royal influence had given him a lot to think about. This was the most abrupt, wild decision he'd ever made, and considering his adventurous childhood, that was saying something. When he returned home- if he returned home- there was no way his parents would immediately forgive him or trust his choices. Trying to convince them that marrying Arthur was the right thing to do wasn't going to be easy.

And of course, that led to the matter of Arthur himself. Alfred had been so caught up in the exhilarating idea that he had another chance that he hadn't really thought through Arthur's likely reactions to him just showing up and declaring his love again. That would probably result in some kind of argument, maybe even a really bad one, and that wouldn't help him convince Arthur to give a relationship a chance. And besides, all Alfred was running with was the faint hope that Arthur still wanted him and hadn't moved on in those months apart. He should have thought of all this before rushing off without a real plan.

Time seemed to pass slowly during the night. Alfred sat there for what must have been hours, feeding the small fire with branches and twigs when it got too low, his mind racing with possibilities, some far worse than others. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the noises that began in the woods around him. They started off almost silent, slight whispers in the darkness between the trees, but as Alfred listened, he heard them grow ever so slightly louder. They were coming closer.

Alfred only knew one person who could walk so quietly, and though it was certainly not him, there was no doubt in Alfred's mind that it was a racial trait. He unwound his arms from around his knees and turned towards the shadows, stretching his legs out along the ground. "Hello," he said casually into the woods. "What are you both doing here?"

The sounds stopped. If Alfred hadn't been used to this already, he might have believed that he was alone, but as it was, he kept up his friendly smile and stared fixedly into the shadows. Finally, an unfamiliar voice broke through the quiet. "You heard us coming?"

"Well, I've gotten used to listening for it," Alfred replied with a shrug. He didn't mention that most of his time was actually spent listening for one specific pair of feet. "Eventually it's just like hearing anyone else."

"Gotten used to it?" a second voice demanded, and Alfred watched as a Fey stepped forward into the light cast by his fire. It was a woman, dressed in the hunting gear of a man but still obviously maintaining a graceful, feminine air. "How could you get used to it?" she went on, glaring down at Alfred. "No one's supposed to get close enough to a Human for that!"

Alfred shrugged again. "What are you doing, then? I mean, I think you're pretty close to me out here."

"That's entirely different," said the first voice. Another Fey stepped out from the cover of the trees. This one was male, though he was wearing the same kind of clothing as the woman. "You're the Crown Prince of Spades," he continued, his voice neutral even as he stared suspiciously down at Alfred. "We've been watching you for some time now, ever since you ran away. Our King was curious about what you intended on doing out here."

"Wait a second, wait, is that what they're saying now? That I ran away?" Alfred frowned. "What would I be running away from? It's not like my parents are out to kill me or anything."

"The general consensus among our people is that you were feeling too pressured by the whole marriage idea and ran off to avoid having to pick just one girl for the rest of your life." The female Fey's eyes swept across his face, sharp and cold.

That hurt. The very idea that a whole group of people would believe him to be some unfaithful, loveless, spoiled brat stabbed right into Alfred's core. He turned his gaze down to his hands, still frowning. "I'm not afraid of marriage," he muttered. "But I'm not going to marry some girl I don't love just so I can take the throne. That wouldn't be fair to me or to her."

"If that's the case, then what are you trying to do, running off like that?" the female Fey asked, her hands clenching around the wood of her bow. "Why wouldn't you go out and try to find the person you do love instead of ride around Spades so aimlessly?"

"Aimlessly?" Alfred said incredulously. Within seconds, he was on his feet and glaring at the two Fey, ignoring the arrows now pointed at him. "Aimlessly? Do you really think I would bother to practically steal a horse and be chased around by guards if I didn't have a reason?" A pair of green eyes and a burst of soft laughter passed through his mind, and Alfred's resolve hardened further. "How can you judge me like that? You have no idea what kind of person I am. How do you know I'm not out here looking for the one I love?"

The female Fey scowled at him. "Well, are you?" Her companion sent her a warning look, but she just shook her head and kept staring at Alfred.

"Of course I am!" Alfred's voice came out louder than he'd expected, almost a shout, but then again, after every disappointment and obstacle he'd dealt with for the past few weeks, there was a good reason for the tension. "Of course I'm looking for him! I've been looking for him every single second of every day since I left the castle. I haven't stopped looking for him. And do you know what? It's all because you stupid Fey don't have any maps or signposts or anything to help me find the way to your forest Kingdom! It's all your fault!"

For what felt like a very long time, there was silence, broken only by Alfred's heavier breathing and the crackle of the small fire. The Fey's expressions were still carefully neutral, but Alfred was beginning to mentally berate himself. That last part of his speech had not come out like he'd wanted. Making a point was one thing, but making an utter fool of himself was not what he had intended. The horse he'd taken seemed feel the same, judging by the stare it was giving him.

It was the female Fey who broke the silence first. "The person you love is a man?" she asked. Her lips twitched upwards in what threatened to be a smile.

"More importantly," the male Fey continued before Alfred could reply, "the person you love is a Fey?"

Alfred nodded slowly, warily. "Yes and yes. I'm not going to have to fight you about this, am I?" Even though he'd learned a lot from Arthur, he had no idea how these specific Fey would react to that.

"Fight us?" the female asked, surprised. "Why would you have to fight us?"

"Well, the man I love taught me about your culture and everything, but I just wasn't sure." Now the question sounded ridiculous. Alfred bit back a groan. "If I don't have to fight you, then, do you think you could let me get some rest? I still need to keep searching for your Kingdom tomorrow." Hopefully he would be allowed to end the conversation with at least some of his dignity intact.

But it didn't seem that the female Fey was going to let him go so easily. She strode forward until she was standing only about a foot in front of him, staring up into his face and smiling crookedly. "No, no, you don't get to pretend this never happened. You've got me curious now, with all this talk about true love and your secret, forbidden lover, and I want answers." She gestured towards the ground. "Take a seat, your Royal Highness, and let's get started."

"Angelique," the male Fey said sternly, "we were sent to follow him, not to ask questions about his love affairs."

The woman- Angelique- rolled her eyes. "I know that, Hong. But if he's sitting right here next to me and answering my questions, obviously we haven't lost him somewhere in the countryside, so I think this counts as part of following him. It's not like I'm hurting him or anything."

Alfred looked back and forth between the two of them curiously. Something about their features reminded him of Arthur, though that was likely due to the fact that he had never encountered another Fey, but their bickering reminded him painfully of the way he and Arthur had been when they were still friends. His chest ached at the thought, and he pushed it aside to focus on the two Fey in front of him. Painful reminiscing could wait until he was alone.

Hong seemed to give in beneath Angelique's unwavering stare. He sighed quietly and motioned for them to sit down. "If you so desperately need to learn about the Human's love life, fine, but don't expect me to join you. I'll be keeping a watch on the roads. Try not to take too long." With that said, he turned and walked back into the shadows.

"Yes, yes, fine." Angelique immediately returned her attention to Alfred. "Now sit, your Majesty, and I want some real answers from you about this secret romance of yours."

"Secret romance?" Despite his faint confusion, Alfred couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I think you've got the wrong idea. There hasn't been much romance yet." Still, he sat back down on the ground, watching as Angelique sat beside him. "So, what do you want to know?"

Angelique didn't say anything at first, just looked over his face again, though this time there seemed to be more curiosity than judgement. "Start at the beginning, I suppose," she said after a moment. "Who was this male Fey of yours, and how did you meet him? We're supposed to keep contact with Humans as only a final resort, so I have no idea how you managed to get to know him well enough to fall in love with him, especially if you don't know where our Kingdom begins."

"Start at the beginning," Alfred repeated. "Alright, but I'm not going to tell you his name." And so he started at the very, very beginning, back at the day where he accidentally came across Arthur in the woods. Sure, he might have accentuated a few minor parts, but Angelique seemed to be enjoying it and he didn't see any harm, so long as he wasn't actually lying. Soon enough, the story moved on to their meeting at the masquerade, and Arthur's magic, and then to that cold winter night, and the start of their friendship, the long days spent together, spent learning from one another, and then, finally, to the very end of it. "And he left," Alfred finished quietly, staring down at his hands and the flickering pattern that the flames cast upon them.

"He left? Just like that?" Angelique breathed out a heavy sigh beside him, and he watched her feet shift out of the corner of his eye. "That's horrible. I can't believe he would walk away like that."

"Well, in all honesty, some of what he said was true." Nodding slightly at his own words, Alfred looked over to meet her eyes. "No one would accept us. A Human and a Fey, getting married, and both men? It's never happened before. No one wants it to happen."

"But you're still out here looking for him." Angelique's lips quirked up in a small smile.

Alfred smiled back. "You're right, I am. Because you know what? No matter what anyone thinks about it, I'm in love with him. He's the One, I just know it, and I'm not going to marry someone else just because of a war that ended years ago and some old traditions. He didn't believe me when I said it, but I wasn't lying when I told him that I'd give up the throne for him. If he still wants me when I find him, I'll fight every single law in existance to keep him by my side."

Her smile widening into a full grin, Angelique pushed herself back up onto her feet and extended one hand down to Alfred to help him up as well. "I think I might have misjudged you, your Royal Highness."

"Just call me Alfred," said Alfred as he grabbed her hand. She was stronger than he'd expected, but then again, he never knew quite what to expect when it came to the Fey.

Alfred was just about to go gather some more twigs to feed the dying fire when Hong reemerged from the dark. He looked suspiciously between the two of them. Angelique simply smiled, and Alfred did his best to do the same, though it felt somewhat hesitant on his lips. Obviously Hong still did not trust him, even if Angelique had changed her mind. "Anything on the road?" he asked, just for the sake of trying to start a conversation, and immediately wished he could have taken it back.

Hong stared at him silently for a moment, then turned back to Angelique as if Alfred hadn't said anything at all. "Are you done with your interrogation, or do you still need to know more details about his Fey lover?"

"No, I suppose I'm done." However, Angelique's eyes narrowed almost instantly, and she shot a sly glance over at Alfred. "Though I would like to know the name of your mystery man."

Raising his hands apologetically, Alfred shook his head. "Sorry, I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" Angelique demanded. "We're not going to turn him in or anything. Come on, Alfred, you already told me your whole story, and I know Hong was listening even if he won't admit it. You can trust us." She caught Alfred's wary glance at Hong and sighed. "Hong won't get your lover in trouble, either. He promises. Don't you, Hong?"

At first it looked as though Hong was going to deny any and all promises of the sort, but as his gaze flicked back and forth between Alfred and Angelique, that stern façade broke somewhat. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "Fine, I won't turn him in." His frown deepened. "Do not make me regret that promise."

Alfred looked nervously between the two Fey in front of him. He knew that he shouldn't give out Arthur's name to near strangers, but there was a large part of him that simply wanted to tell someone, anyone, so that he would be able to stop feeling as though he was committing some kind of crime that needed to be kept secret. Loving Arthur was no crime at all. But still… "You also have to promise that you won't tell him I told you," Alfred insisted. Neither Fey looked like they had any intention of keeping that promise, which he had expected, so he merely sighed lightly and shrugged his shoulders. "The man I love… His name is Arthur."

"Arthur." Angelique hummed slightly, biting her lips as she thought over the name. "That sounds familiar- Wait a second." Her eyes went wide. "You can't tell me that you fell in love with him!"

"With him?" Alfred repeated, confused. "I have no idea how many Arthurs you know. Maybe?"

"She's speaking of the librarian," Hong replied. Though his facial expression wasn't any more pleasant than it had been earlier, Alfred almost thought he saw surprise in there.

"Yes, yes! That's him. Arthur, the royal librarian." Alfred's mouth gaped open and closed for a few long seconds as he struggled to find what he wanted to say. Finally, he settled on, "You know him? How is he? Is he doing alright? He hasn't gotten hurt, has he? He hasn't said anything about me?" The questions threatened to keep tumbling out past his lips, a constant stream of everything he'd been wanting to know about Arthur for months.

Angelique ignored all of them. "You fell in love with him?" she asked again, as if that was the most ridiculous, illogical thing she had ever heard. "All of those romantic lines you told me about, you said those to him? He said all that back?" She gasped, one hand rising to touch her lips. "And then… It all makes sense! Of course, that's why he's been so irritable these past few months." Her eyes flashed with inspiration, and a grin began to pull at her mouth again.

"Angelique," Hong said warningly.

She ignored him too. "Hong, we have to take Alfred to the palace."

The burst of hope that exploded into Alfred's chest was so powerful that his knees shook. "Take me to the palace? Now? You're really going to?"

"No, we are not." Hong glared over at Angelique. "You know the law. Don't promise things you're not capable of giving."

"But I am capable of giving it," Angelique replied firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest, straightening up to her full height, which admittedly wasn't very impressive, and glared right back at Hong. "I never said it was legal, but if Alfred is willing to break all those laws to find Arthur again, I'm can do the same. You can't stop me."

Hong's glare intensified. "I can, and you know it."

"But will you?" she insisted.

Then there was some very tense silence in which Alfred looked back and forth at the two of them, waiting with baited breath to see what would happen. If Angelique won, he would hopefully at least be able to see and talk to Arthur again, even if he was sent away. But if Hong won, it was back to his futile searching. He shuddered at the very thought of having to return to that, especially after being so, so close to his goal. His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he awaited his sentence.

Hong broke the silence. "Fine." That was it. There were no apologies or threats or even any more words, just that one concise statement, but all three of them knew exactly what it meant.

Joy surged upwards through Alfred's body. He nearly shook with it, and before he realized what he was doing, he had picked up Angelique in a tight hug and was spinning her around in a circle. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he chanted over and over again.

"You're welcome." Angelique pushed at his head, laughing. "Now put me down so we can bring you to your One True Love!"

If the reality of the situation had not set in before, it would have right then and there. Alfred's face felt like it would tear from the force of his smile. He set Angelique back down on the ground after another spin and stepped away. "Are we going right now? We can go right now, can't we?"

"Of course, of course."

And they did. They left Alfred's makeshift campsite behind and began to walk, the horse wandering along behind them. Though the sky was clouded and barely any moon or starlight managed to shine through, both Angelique and Hong seemed to have no trouble in navigating the darkness. Alfred followed them as silently as he could and felt embarrassingly like a bumbling child. He was nearly twenty years old, and had been taught to keep himself hidden by some of the best hunters in the Four Kingdoms, but he was still much louder than the two Fey. The longer he walked, however, the less he heard his own footsteps, seemingly blending into the sounds of the night. The lack of the familiar noise left him feeling as though he was floating, but he refrained from saying so aloud. Angelique and Hong both looked very focused on what they were doing. He didn't want to interrupt, not if it meant risking his chances of seeing Arthur again.

Their strange procession wandered through the night, across streams and over hills, past fields of long grass and between the trunks of thick trees, deep into strange caverns and out again into the open air. There was no way that they could have passed out of the borders of Spades, Alfred knew that, but he had never seen any of these places before, at least not like this. He wondered if this was what Arthur spent his life seeing. How could Arthur be so curious about Human life if he grew up surrounded by such beauty? Alfred couldn't understand it. The sheer loveliness of everything around him left him breathless.

However, even as his mind whirled with thoughts of adventure in the night and exploration to find even more of this beauty, his heart was beginning to sink in his chest. This was Arthur's world, not his own. How could he ask Arthur to walk away from all of this? To marry a Human, and especially a Human Prince, would exile any Fey from the mystical beauty around them. But the very idea of turning around and going back to the castle, back to a life of duty and responsibility without his True Love, sent a stabbing pain through him. He had to see Arthur. Even if nothing came of it, he had to see Arthur again.

So on they walked.

* * *

><p>AN- And chapter six! Still no Arthur, but we're getting there.

Hong is Hong Kong and Angelique is Seychelles, by the way. I know it's probably not very clear in the actual story, but I'm trying to avoid major descriptions of any of the characters.

Hope you enjoyed! And thank you so much for all the reviews and favorites and alerts.


	7. Chapter 7

Dawn was seeping over the horizon, bringing wonderful colors into the world, when Angelique finally came to a halt, reaching out behind herself to grab Alfred's arm and stop him as well. "Look," she said, pointing out at the scene before them. "This is it. This is our land. The capital of the Kingdom of the Fey."

Alfred looked where she was pointing, and it was beautiful. He had no idea where they were, and could not even remember passing into the forest they now stood in, but it was still the most amazing thing he had ever seen. The trees, though tall and proud and thick, stood several feet apart from one another, their roots entangling in graceful patterns on the ground. Their leaves were broad and colorful. Up ahead, the trees spread out further, opening into what was almost a wide clearing. Around the trunks of those trees wound spiral staircases built of smooth wood. They seemed to blend right into the bark of the trees, and Alfred found himself wondering if that was truly the case. But what really caught his eye and his breath was what was growing out of the leafy boughs high in the canopy of the forest. Far up above him was a city of houses, built into the trees themselves, nowhere close to touching the ground. Alfred nearly stumbled over his own feet as he stared wide-eyed up at them. This was far beyond anything he could have imagined.

"Well, what do you think?" Angelique prompted him after a few minutes of awed silence had passed.

"I think it's amazing," Alfred breathed, still unable to look away from the city in the trees. The horse, which was still trailing along behind him, snorted its agreement. "Is this the palace? This has to be the palace."

Hong frowned at him. "The palace? This is nothing but the edge of the city. The palace is far grander than this." He gestured up at the buildings above them. "The poorest of farmers can live in these houses."

"Poor?" Alfred asked, amazed. It made no sense to him that anyone but the richest of the rich could live in such magical houses. The countryfolk back in Spades would have been green with envy at the very idea, he was sure of it, even if they weren't badly off themselves. To live up in the trees, high above the ground, almost as though he was flying… He would have loved to try it.

They walked on, through one part of the city to another to another, and Alfred watched, silent in awe, as the houses grew larger and more complex, but still never touched the ground. There must have been magic involved somehow, he thought, because there was no way any of it could have existed by normal means. But then he remembered what Arthur had said, that magic was something small and personal, and he remembered the tingling, warm sensation of Arthur's magic on his own skin, and he looked down at the ground to hide how his mouth sank into a frown. Maybe it was magic, or maybe it wasn't, but Alfred didn't want to think about it further.

Luckily for the three of them, it was still early enough in the morning that there were few Fey actually awake and walking around. Only one seemed to catch sight of them, her eyes widening as she took in Alfred and his very Human features and attire. Hong caught her gaze and shook his head slightly, and though she looked around nervously between him, Alfred, and Angelique for a few moments, she nodded her head. It seemed that she, at least, wasn't going to turn them in. Not that it would really matter for Alfred, as it would take him straight to the palace anyway, but he supposed it was good for Hong and Angelique's reputation and standing in whatever they did for their Kingdom. He would hate for them to get in major trouble for doing this for him.

The sun was finally beginning to move close to the center of the sky by the time they reached the palace. It was just as Hong had said- those houses in the trees were nothing compared to the sheer majesty of the castle before them. In size, it was probably no bigger than the castle of Spades with which Alfred was so familiar, but it looked so different, so unique and foreign and unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Like the rest of the buildings in the city, the palace was suspended above the ground. Instead of simply spreading across one, two, or possibly three trees, however, it appeared to branch out along dozens of them. It was built of the same smooth wood, interspersed by many wide windows that seemed to open into large rooms or hallways, though Alfred couldn't see them clearly from the ground. No matter what the truth was, though, he was entranced by the sight. To believe that this was where Arthur spent his days…

The thought of Arthur sent a spark of longing shooting through Alfred's body, and he turned to look pleadingly over at Angelique. "Now we can go see Arthur, right? Is he in there?"

But Angelique just frowned slightly. "Well, I hope so."

"What do you mean, you hope so?" Alfred asked, eyes wide and disbelieving. His heart was throbbing painfully. "You said before that you could take me to Arthur. Please, don't tell me you're having second thoughts about this. I'm not going to hurt him. If he still doesn't want me, I'll leave, I promise. Just please, please, let me see him one more time." Alfred had grown up a Crown Prince, and he knelt before no one, but his voice shook with the begging he refused to show outright. After coming all this way, after searching for so long, after defying his parents and his Kingdom, how could he turn back?

"I wasn't saying that," Angelique hastened to reassure him, holding her hands up somewhat defensively. "I only meant that we can't just walk in there and go right to Arthur. This is the palace, after all. There are guards all over. And I expect you know that Humans aren't exactly a welcome sight around here." She looked over at him, her expression apologetic. "Before you can see Arthur, you're going to have to see the King."

"The King?" Alfred felt himself pale. It was foolish of him, but he'd never anticipated this. Somehow, all of his imaginings of how this romantic adventure would end involved him running in and declaring his faithfulness and love to Arthur right away, usually in flowery prose and sometimes even poetry. But of course there would be some kind of obstacle in the way of that, and having to meet with the King of the Fey was one of the worst he could come up with at the moment. He had no idea what to expect once he walked through the palace doors. For half a second, he hesitated in fear.

But this was Arthur. This was everything he'd dreamed of, every silly romantic notion come to a head, the moment where the very idea of One True Love was brought into question. There was no way he could walk away from it now and live with his decision for the rest of his life. He looked over at Hong and Angelique, expression stern and determined. "Take me inside, then."

The two Fey exchanged a look that Alfred couldn't quite understand, before Hong nodded. "Let's go." He pressed one hand against Alfred's back and pushed him gently forwards, and though Alfred jumped at the sensation- no one had ever done that to him before, no one but Arthur- he didn't complain or try to move away. This was not Spades anymore, and Alfred's word meant nothing more than anyone else. The horse didn't follow them, though it didn't seem to be running off either.

The winding steps that led up to the wide entryway of the palace were long and steep. It felt as though it took forever to reach the top, though that might only have been Alfred's growing nerves. Each step was built of wood instead of the stone he was used to, and the sound of his footfalls where they landed sounded odd to his own ears, only heightening his sense of not belonging there. This was the land of the Fey. This was the place that Humans spoke of in hushes whispers and that soldiers refused to describe when asked about the War. This was not where Alfred was supposed to be. But that didn't matter, not right then.

Finally, they reached the top, and the guards that waited there took a long look at Alfred and his companions and almost seemed to refuse to let them in before Hong fixed them with his unwavering stare. Then the great wooden doors were pushed open, and Angelique, Hong, and Alfred walked inside, where they were met by the curious and judgemental looks of many other guards in the long hallway that Alfred assumed was the Great Hall. It looked nothing at all like the ones in Spades or even any of the other Four Kingdoms, dark where those ones were airy and light, but that didn't detract from the magnificence of it all. Other dark hallways led off of the main one. Hong and Angelique, and as such Alfred, didn't veer from their straight path, heading towards the wall far at the end, illuminated by what looked to be hundreds of candles. Only once they got close enough did Alfred realize that those candles were wreathing another large door, intricately carved with designs he didn't understand, but thought he might have recognized from what Arthur had taught him. He knew what lay beyond that door.

The guards at this door gave their strange procession another confused look before they actually opened the way into the next room. Alfred was getting rather tired of that. It certainly wasn't helping him deal with the ever-present nerves that the situation had instilled in him. The fact that the King of the Fey was going to be sitting just a little ways on was sending shivers down his spine that he had to fight to hide. It was for Arthur, he reminded himself. It was all for Arthur, and nothing could stop him.

Except, possibly, the King himself. As soon as Alfred caught sight of the man seated in the throne across the long room, illuminated by a vast array of candles, he felt his knees quake beneath him. He knew he looked an absolute mess, living off the land for weeks as he had, not at all suitable to be in the presence of a King. But he was royalty, he was the Crown Prince, and he wouldn't be turned away, not without a fight. Lifting his head high and squaring his shoulders, Alfred strode forward, Hong and Angelique walking right behind him. He didn't flinch beneath the harsh gazes of the royal guards.

"Well, what do we have here?" The mocking voice seemed to resound around the room, but Alfred knew that it came from the man on the throne. "Two of my Fey and a Human Prince. I haven't seen something like this for years."

"Your Majesty," Alfred called out as he continued to walk forward, "I'm sorry to intrude on you like this, but I came here to accomplish something important. Angelique and Hong have nothing to do with this. It's my own fault for involving them, so if you're going to punish someone, punish me. But first, please, hear me out."

The King frowned at him, his strange, bright red eyes narrowing as he looked over Alfred's form. "They are guilty. You couldn't have forced them into leading you here if you'd tried. And since they did this of their own free will, I have no choice but to hold them to their decision." But he didn't immediately order his guards to rush in and grab them all. Instead, he cocked his head slightly sideways, his pointed ears sticking up through his pale hair. "Though I have to admit I'm curious about what you want. What could I possibly give you? You're the ones who won the War, after all."

That was good enough for Alfred right then. Any sort of audience granted him was one step closer to his goal. Once he came to the foot of the short staircase that led up to the throne, he bowed deeply, not kneeling, and then looked right up into the Fey King's eyes. "I came here to find my One True Love."

There was silence. Then the Fey King blinked at him. "Your what?" One side of his mouth crooked up into an odd sort of smile. "I think I misheard you. Say that again?"

"I said," Alfred tried again, "I'm here to find my One True Love. That's what I came for."

"Your One True Love," the King repeated. "Is that it? Your One True Love?" And he laughed. He laughed long and hard and very nearly fell forward over the edge of the throne as tears ran down his cheeks from the force of it all. Around the room, the guards were chuckling, too.

Confused and annoyed, Alfred glanced back over his shoulder at Angelique, who could only offer him a helpless shrug. He turned back to the Fey King, a firm scowl on his lips. "What's so funny about that? I'm telling the truth!"

"Are you serious?" the King demanded, wiping at his eyes with one hand as another chortle escaped his mouth. "Are you actually serious? You really believe in all those One True Love stories? Oh, Lady, I thought you were supposed to be a Prince, not some little girl!" Another round of laughter rang out from the guards, and Alfred felt his cheeks flush an angry red.

"Of course I'm serious! Why would I say that if I didn't mean it?"

"Wow." The King brushed at the last few tears still clinging to his eyelashes. "Wow. I didn't think anyone older than ten or so even thought about those old stories. Good job proving me wrong, your Highness."

Alfred decided immediately that he didn't like the Fey King. It wasn't even his odd looks that did it, though Alfred had to admit those were somewhat alarming, but his mocking, unfriendly personality. Alfred had no idea how a person like that could have stayed King in the first place. He would have expected some king of uprising by now. But it wasn't as though he could do anything about it, not when he was a guest there, so he just drew in another deep, calming breath and tried to go about his business politely. "Now that you know why I'm here, can I go try to find my One True Love? I don't want to take up more of your precious time." Alright, so that last part was a bit more scathing than he'd intended, but he didn't feel guilty.

The King smirked down at him. "So you have a little bite to you after all. Good. Alright, let's say that your whole quest for your One True Love is really what you're here for. Is that also why you ran off from your Kingdom and duties and all? That doesn't seem very heroic of you."

"I know." Alfred frowned. "But at the time, it seemed like the best thing to do. I still think it was a good plan, even if I didn't really think all the way to the end of it. I wasn't going to marry someone I don't love if I still had a chance to marry the man I want."

"The man?" the King asked, eyes wide with curiosity. "I didn't know about that. This so-called One True Love of yours is a man?"

"Yes. And I love him, so no matter what you think about that, it's not going to change. He's the reason I came all this way. He's the reason I ran off from my parents. I won't leave until I can talk to him, or at least until he refuses to talk to me." Alfred met the King's gaze straight on, unwavering, his head held high.

Quiet reigned for a long while as the King looked Alfred up and down and up and down. Alfred nearly began to sweat beneath the stare. He'd never met someone with such oddly colored eyes before, and they only seemed to increase the strength of his gaze. But Alfred didn't look away. He couldn't.

Finally, the King nodded slowly. "Alright, so you're here for your male One True Love. But that doesn't mean I'll just let you walk around until you find him. After all, us Fey aren't supposed to mingle with your kind, by our own laws and yours. You bringing this here could get the both of you in major trouble." His eyes searched across Alfred's face. "Tell me the whole story. I want to know how you met and everything from that point up until now."

"Fine," said Alfred, "but I'm not going to tell you his name." So he started off way at the beginning in the woods, back where he'd accidentally come across Arthur, just like he'd told Angelique. He recounted the years they'd spent getting to know one another, the arguments and the laughter, the masquerade and those days in the gardens, the talk of childhood and magic and responsibilities and just what made a pie different than a cake. As he spoke, he saw the King's expression change again and again, and watched the guards lean in to listen better. And then of course, he got to the part where he fell in love and everything fell apart. Just as before, that was the hardest to say aloud, but he still said it. He looked around at all of them, at Angelique and Hong and the Fey King and the guards, and shrugged his shoulders. "And that's why I'm here. I need to show him that I mean it, all of it."

Silence. Then the King nodded slowly, and a wide grin split across his pale face. "Wow. If I wasn't so sure they were all fake, I would actually believe I was in the middle of one of those old stories. So this really is all about your One True Love."

Alfred nodded. "It is."

"And you're willing to risk all this even though he already turned you down?"

"Yes." There Alfred paused for a second, reaching up to rub at his neck nervously. "I don't want to force him into a relationship or anything. It's just that he told me he loves me, too, and I think we could be good together if he wanted it. And if he doesn't, well, I had to see him again, one last time." It felt odd, exposing his innermost feelings to a gathering of strangers like this. He only hoped it would be worth it in the end.

"I see." The King pursed his lips in thought, glancing from Alfred to Hong to Angelique and then back over their heads towards the door they'd come through. Alfred forced himself not to tremble in his anticipation. This was it. Either this had been a waste of time and effort, and he would be forced to return home with nothing but his broken heart, or he would be able to see Arthur again, even if only for a minute or two. The quiet drew on and on. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the King's next words.

And then the Fey King opened his mouth. "Well," he said. "I can't say I've ever been in this position before." He looked down at Alfred again, crossing his arms over his chest. "By the laws, I should have your secret lover punished, and you thrown in jail or sent back to your Kingdom in shame for daring to come here and associate with any of us Fey, and as a King I shouldn't be able to be swayed from those laws. But still… I can't help but want to know the ending of all this. And I really want to know who you're in love with. Who would risk that much to go and fall in love with a Human?"

"I'm not going to tell you his name if he'll get in trouble for it," Alfred replied with a frown.

"Right." The King sighed and drummed his fingers against his knees as he thought some more. "What if I swore to you that I wouldn't punish him at all?"

"I'm not stupid. I've been around royalty long enough to know that Kings can lie just as well as anyone else."

The Fey King grinned at that. "Good answer. I like you, Alfred of Spades. If you were a Fey, I'd invite you to sit in my court. If more Humans were like you, I think we could all get along better, even after the War." His eyes narrowed as they searched across Alfred's face. "You're going to be the next King of Spades, aren't you?"

Alfred shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I hope so, if my parents haven't disowned me for running away yet."

"They're making a mistake if they do," the King said. He rose up from his throne, his cloak falling majestically and slightly wrinkled around him, and began to make his way down the steps to where Alfred was standing. Once there, he reached out and clapped one hand down on Alfred's shoulder. "You'll be a good King. You have my support when you take the throne. The Humans could use a leader like you."

"We're not the only ones who need to change a little," Alfred told him. "I've heard what the Fey think about us, too, and I can tell you right now that a lot of it isn't true." But he still clapped a hand on the Fey King's shoulder in return.

"Right, right." The King's grin only widened, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "But either way, I don't think I have any problems with you, so I can promise you right now that I won't hurt your secret lover at all. Tell me his name and I can get him summoned here right away."

Alfred's heart leaped in joy, nearly threatening to burst right out of his skin in his happiness, but he suppressed it as best he could. "And you're not lying?"

"I'm not lying."

There was no proof of that, of course, and Alfred had only barely met the man a little while earlier, but right then, he had no other choice than to believe him. Besides, the King's smile, though a little abrasive, didn't seem to be hiding any ill will. Alfred hesitated a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. I'll trust you, your Majesty-"

"Gilbert," the Fey King interrupted.

"Gilbert, then. I'll trust you, Gilbert, and I really hope you're going to keep that promise." Alfred took a quick glance around the room, noted that all the guards were leaning in to listen to the name he was about to say, and sighed. "His name is Arthur. He told me he's a librarian."

"A librarian," the King- Gilbert- repeated, almost disbelievingly. "Arthur, the librarian. Are you joking? You must be joking. There's no way you would have fallen in love with him of all people."

Alfred gaped at him, confused and utterly unsure of what to say. Luckily, Angelique jumped in to help. "It's true, your Majesty," she said with a smile. "I don't know if you've seen Arthur much these last few months, but he's been even angrier than usual, and it all fits in with Alfred's story. They really fell in love."

And Gilbert threw his head back and roared with laughter. Alfred wasn't sure whether to be offended by that or not, so he kept quiet, even though his lips threatened to twitch upwards into an answering smile. But finally, Gilbert seemed to have calmed down enough to speak again. He wiped at one eye, still chuckling lightly. "I can't say I approve of your taste in men, Alfred. Honestly, Arthur?"

"I love him," Alfred replied stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think he's the most handsome, amazing person I've ever met. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I never said there was." Gilbert was still grinning, though. "I'm just having a hard time believing that you actually managed to fall in love with Arthur, because I have no idea what you see in him." Before Alfred could retort, Gilbert turned to look over at two of the guards standing by the wall, and gestured towards them. "Go summon Arthur immediately. If he asks why, tell him he has an important visitor." He winked at Alfred, who could only smile nervously back.

The guards bowed and left, and Alfred suddenly found himself utterly terrified. He had come to the end of his journey, and this was the moment he had been waiting for, but now, he didn't know what to expect. Arthur would soon be walking through those same doors that he had entered. What would he say? How could Alfred prove himself and a potential relationship to be worth all of this? He had no idea if he even was worth it all, though he certainly hoped so, and he really hoped that Arthur would feel the same. Words and sentences and phrases ran through his head, all possibilities of what to say, but he couldn't seem to figure out what would be best.

Then he heard the very, very soft sounds of three pairs of feet approaching and the slight creak of the door as it opened, and Alfred turned, breathless, to stare at confused, beautiful green eyes.

* * *

><p>AN- Chapter seven! I've never written Gilbert before, so I hope he turned out alright. I didn't want to make him ridiculously over the top like I so often see.

Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

The moment that Arthur stepped into the throne room, Alfred immediately lost all of the words he could have said. His mouth went dry as he looked at the man he thought he'd lost forever. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. All he could seem to manage was to stand there, gaping, his heart pounding away in his chest.

Arthur, however, did not seem to be having the same problem. In fact, it didn't appear that he'd even noticed that Alfred was there at all. He was busy staring curiously over at Gilbert, looking more than a bit irritated. "Excuse me, your Majesty," he said bluntly, and the sound of his voice made Alfred's heart skip a beat. "These men of yours told me that I have some kind of important visitor? I don't know what you're trying to do, but I know that I wouldn't-" And then his eyes fell on Alfred. His words cut off abruptly.

The silence was so thick with tension that it could have been cut with even the dullest of blades, but there was an underlying pulse to it, a sort of thrumming excitement. Alfred stared at Arthur and Arthur stared at Alfred, both of their mouths hanging open, unable to speak. The rest of the people around them might well have disappeared for all they mattered right then. Alfred desperately tried to come up with something to say, but he couldn't. Nothing sounded right. Arthur didn't seem to be having any better a time at it.

Luckily for the two of them, they weren't really alone. After several long, awkward moments of quiet had passed, Gilbert let out an annoyed sigh and shoved at Alfred's arm. "Well, what are you waiting for? This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"It is," Alfred whispered, unable to look away from Arthur. "I just…"

Across from him, Arthur shook his head slowly. "Alfred?" he asked, unsure and quiet. "What are you doing here?"

Alfred shrugged helplessly. There was nothing to say other than the absolute truth. "I love you. I had to see you again, one more time, even if you really don't want to be with me." He looked down at the ground, afraid to see what kind of emotion would play out across Arthur's face. "If you want me to leave, I will. Just tell me and I'll go. I just wanted one more chance to tell you how much you mean to me, one more chance to show you that I meant every word I said."

"Alfred!" The cry was broken and heartwrenching, and Alfred immediately looked up from the floor to meet Arthur's wide eyes. "Alfred, please, don't make us go through this again. The first time was painful enough, you must understand that." Arthur bit his lip, glancing off to the side as if he couldn't meet Alfred's gaze. "This won't work between us."

"Then you want me to leave?" Alfred asked. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, he felt as though the whole world was about to fall apart beneath his feet, but he didn't walk away, not yet.

"Yes." Then Arthur shook his head sharply. "No. I don't know, Alfred. I don't know."

That wasn't what Alfred wanted to hear, though. His chest ached as he struggled between hope and despair. "Don't say that. You asked me not to go through this again, Arthur, and if you don't want me to, tell me to leave. Tell me to go away. Don't just say that you don't know."

"But what if I really don't? I never thought I would see you again. I thought we had chosen not to pursue anything. How was I supposed to know that you would try again?"

"Because you told me you loved me," Alfred said simply, clearly. "And you know me. Sometimes it might take me a while to figure these things out, but I won't let them go, not until I know that there's nothing there to follow. As far as I can tell, there's still something here, between us. If you don't love me anymore, tell me, and I'll go. But if you do, Arthur, then believe me when I say that I would give up everything for you. I would do it."

"You're a fool, Alfred." Arthur's voice shook, his eyebrows drawing down and his mouth pursing into a frown. "Giving up your title, your claim to the throne, for what? A man, a simple librarian, a Fey?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, I wouldn't give it up for any of those things."

Arthur stared at him, obviously confused. "But you just said-"

"I wouldn't give my throne up for any man, or any librarian, or any Fey." Alfred stepped forward, extending out his hands. "I would give it up for you, and only for you. And you know what? I would do it gladly. If it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you, I would give it all up without a second thought."

"Don't be selfish," Arthur snapped. His shoulders trembled, though, and his gaze was not as angry as it had been before. "You should never abandon your people and your Kingdom for anyone."

A loud chuckle broke through their conversation, and they both looked over, surprised, to see Gilbert smiling slightly at the two of them. "Sorry to say, Arthur, but your lover here already ran away from his Kingdom for you. Why do you think he's here?"

"What?" Arthur gaped at the Fey King, then over at Alfred, then back and forth again. "You ran away, Alfred? How could you do something so stupid?"

"It was not stupid," Alfred insisted. "You know me, Arthur. Do you really think I could have managed to marry some girl I don't love? Maybe I'd be able to survive the first few years, but it would kill me inside, Arthur, and you know it. It started to, even if you weren't there to see it. Coming out here, chasing after the man I love… How is that so bad?"

And Arthur's lips twitched upwards, a movement that was ever so slight, so barely noticeable, and Alfred saw it and his heart leaped in his chest. "Ever the romantic fool, aren't you? I suppose I can't blame you for that, seeing how I did fall in love with it in the first place. But still, Alfred, how am I worth all that?"

Alfred didn't reply. He wasn't sure he could- listing off every little thing that he loved about Arthur would take hours, days, possibly forever. Instead he stepped forward again, desperately searching for something, anything, in Arthur's eyes. "Do you still love me? Have you moved on?"

"Of course I still love you, you fool," Arthur whispered, his lips quirking up even further, sad but there. "How could I forget about you so quickly?"

"Then I'm glad I came. I'll never regret coming here, not even if you tell me to go, because at least I tried one more time." Alfred could feel his mouth turning up at the corners, even as tears started to gather in his eyes. He struggled to hold them back. "I told you before, Arthur, and I'll tell you again right now, I'll give up everything for you. I know you think I'd regret it, and maybe I would, just a little, but if it meant I could have you by my side, I would do it. I would do it a hundred, a thousand times if I had the chance! And that's because I love you, and I'm going to keep loving you until the day I die, no matter what happens to me or you or us. I don't expect you to do the same thing for me. I don't want to force you to give everything up for me. But Arthur, if you wanted to, if you were willing to give this a chance, oh gods, I think we would make it. I think we might even get that happily ever after from the old stories." His smile shook as it widened. "I love you, Arthur, and if you said yes, I would marry you right here, right now, the Four Kingdoms be damned. I love you!"

"Idiot!" Arthur yelled at him, and then Alfred found himself with his arms full of a beautiful, green-eyed Fey, and his lips captured in the most wonderful kiss he had ever experienced. He grasped the back of Arthur's tunic tightly and returned the kiss with as much force and love as he could. The tingling sensation of Arthur and his magic and everything, all at once, pressed against him, so close, nearly overwhelmed him. Vaguely, he knew that there were still people watching, but he didn't care right then. Everything was Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.

But of course, even the most amazing of kisses could not last forever, and far too soon Alfred felt Arthur pulling away. He let him go, though he didn't release his hold around Arthur's back. "So, what did that mean?" he asked quietly.

Arthur shook his head, smiling slightly. "It meant that you are the ridiculous person I've ever met, and that these romantic notions of yours are equally as foolish, and… And that yes, Alfred, yes, of course I will marry you." He pressed his hands to Alfred's cheeks, peering up into his eyes, his smile growing stronger. "Of course I'll marry you."

Alfred's heart might have stopped for a second, or possibly just stuttered or skipped more than one beat, but whatever it was, he was suddenly shocked and excited and amazed and so very in love. His grip on Arthur tightened. "You will?" he repeated breathlessly. "But last time, you said-"

"I know what I said. It all made sense, didn't it?" Arthur was grinning and biting at his lip, his eyes watery. "But Alfred, you're not the only one who's allowed to be foolish and romantic sometimes. I… These past few months, I was hoping that something would happen to allow me to see you again. I wanted it so desperately. And now here you are, and you want a second chance, and by the Lady, Alfred, you can have one, if you'll give me the same." He touched Alfred's face gently. "I'll give up everything for you, too, if you still want me."

Alfred kissed him. It was brief, just a quick press of lips, and he pulled back to stare down into those wide green eyes. "Really? Are you sure? What about your books, and your home, and your friends?"

"If they're really my friends, they'll understand." Arthur ran his fingers through Alfred's hair. "And perhaps I'll miss my books and my library, but I can always start a new collection, can't I? Besides, you said it yourself. I think we can have that happy ending, too, if we're both willing to try for it."

"I'm willing," Alfred told him, unable to stop the wide, ridiculous grin that spread across his face. "I've always been willing. And if you're willing, too, let's go. Let's drop everything and leave all this behind and start over again together."

"Right now?" Arthur asked him, returning that giddy smile, his cheeks flushed with enthusiasm. Alfred thought he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Right now."

Arthur laughed, his flush deepening and his eyes crinkling at the corners, and tugged lightly at Alfred's hair. "What are we waiting for, then? Did you bring a great white horse to carry us away on, like in the stories?"

"Actually," Alfred said, grin widening even further, "I did, if it hasn't run away yet." They both laughed at that, not moving away from one another, and then they were kissing again, brief but lingering, and when they pulled away, they were still smiling like fools and looking somewhat like they were going to cry. Right then, Alfred knew that no matter what would happen after that day, he would never, ever regret his decision to follow Arthur out there.

"Hey, hey, wait a moment." Gilbert's voice broke through into their own little world, and both Alfred and Arthur turned to look over at him, curious. "Why do you two keep talking about giving everything up? I don't see why you have to give up anything at all." The Fey King was grinning a sort of grin that Alfred had only ever associated with criminals and insane people and Matthew when he had a particularly devious thought. Needless to say, it worried him.

"What are you planning?" Arthur asked slowly, eyes narrowed.

Gilbert only grinned wider. "You'll see soon enough."

* * *

><p>AN- And chapter eight. A bit of a short one, but still important.

And now for some bad news. This is the last of the chapters that I had pre-written. This means that for the last two chapters, you're unfortunately going to have to wait for me to finish them! I'm about two pages into the next one, and the tenth should be relatively simple, but I'm currently in the middle of finals and more than a little busy busy busy, so they probably won't come out until after Xmas. They will be out before New Year's, though!

Thanks for all the support!


	9. Chapter 9

Most, if not all, of the old stories ended in triumphant returns home, the hero riding in on a gorgeous stallion draped in expensive baubles, head held high, sword and shield and armor glittering in the brilliant sunlight. Sometimes he would also be carrying back a beautiful damsel of some royal blood, clinging to him and whispering words of love and praise. Behind the hero would trail his band of warriors, ones who he'd either brought with him on his quest or found along the way. Everyone who saw them pass would cry out in awe and throw flowers at the horses' feet and swoon and gasp and cry out the hero's name. No one ever wanted him to leave again.

Alfred never thought his return home would be anything like that, and to be honest, it wasn't a perfect replica. There were no trumpets blaring out across the fields of Spades, and people weren't falling on his knees as he rode by, and his horse was wearing only the most basic Fey-style saddle and wasn't even really his to begin with, and Arthur certainly wasn't draped all over his back and whispering into his ear. That wasn't to say that Arthur was not there, though, because he certainly was, and he did have his arms wrapped around Alfred's waist. It was rather comforting, he thought, especially when he was riding alongside someone as flamboyant and impatient as King Gilbert.

That was where the rest of the old stories came into play. Alfred was indeed riding at the head of a column of warriors, even if they weren't Human, and even if they weren't what his people would consider heroes at all. The short column of Fey on horseback that kept pace behind him and Gilbert looked incredibly out of place as they rode down the streets of Spades. Farmers in their fields dropped their tools in shock as the column passed. Alfred could have sworn he saw one lady faint back into her husband's arms. He winced and couldn't blame them for their surprise. After all, there had been very few sightings of Fey for over ten years, and those that had been seen had certainly not been arrayed like this.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Alfred asked, leaning over slightly towards Gilbert. He felt Arthur shift behind him.

Gilbert shrugged, grinning lopsidedly. "You already agreed to it. You can't just turn back now."

Arthur chuckled, his arms tightening gently around Alfred's waist for a moment. "He's right, you know. We've already come this far. What could be gained by turning around?"

Those words sent a swell of happiness floating through Alfred's stomach and chest. He turned slightly to smile back at Arthur, the one he thought he'd lost, the one he'd risked everything for, the one who he never want to leave again. "You're right." There was no point in hesitating.

They kept riding on, passing through fields and villages and towns and forests and everything else that Alfred had passed through before in his frantic search for Arthur. And then, finally, the great walls of the capital of Spades rose up before them. Alfred's heart thudded nervously in his chest, but he pushed the anxiety away. He had waited far too long for this to give it all up then. Arthur was a warm, comforting presence against his back, his breath soothing where Alfred could feel it upon his neck. Somewhere back in their line of horses, Angelique and Hong were riding in his support. Beside him, he could see Gilbert watching his face curiously, and he squared his shoulders and trotted his horse towards the gates. He only needed to shout up to the guards once for the heavy wood and metal to swing open.

The city was different now, Alfred thought to himself as they rode inside. He'd grown up there, spent a childhood fleeing from his nurses and rushing through the streets, but he had always looked at it as something normal, something that could be found anywhere. Now, though, it was almost as if he was looking at those same exact streets with new eyes. After seeing the beautiful tree city of the Fey's capital, he could see that same kind of beauty in his own kingdom, in the cobbled streets and carved stone architecture and flowing banners. Pride surged through him, and what had before been a nervous frown on his lips turned up into a confident smile. This was his home. This was his city, his kingdom. These were his people. Somehow, they would understand that the Fey behind him was also his choice.

Cityfolk poured out of their houses and shops to stare at him as he rode by at the head of his envoy. Men who remembered the War gasped at the sight of the Fey, and small children whispered among themselves, but other than that, the only sounds that broke through the warm, sunlit summer morning were birdsong and the noise of the horses' hooves on the ground. Right at that moment, Alfred really felt like a Prince, more so than he ever had sitting upon a throne. It was an amazing feeling. The fact that Arthur was there with him only made it more wonderful.

But of course, perfect moments like that couldn't last forever, and soon enough, they were entering into the courtyard of the castle. Though Alfred had been bracing himself for it the whole journey, the sound of his mother's shrill cry still made him wince. Arthur patted his abdomen soothingly, but tension was evident in his body as well.

"Alfred!" The Queen stormed down the stairs out of the castle, her skirts held up in her hands so she wouldn't trip, and marched her way over towards him and his companions with an expression that promised very bad things to come. "Alfred, what in the gods' names do you think you're doing? Running off like that, without a single word to anyone but Matthew, who is still in trouble for refusing to tell us anything, by the way, and then just flouncing your way back in with a whole company of…" She hesitated, obviously struggling to find the words she wanted as she looked up at the Fey. Alfred hoped she couldn't think of any particularly bad ones. "… Enemies," she said finally.

Alfred could feel Arthur flinch slightly behind him, and a sudden fierce protectiveness overtook him. He raised his chin slightly and stared down at his mother. "They're not enemies, mother." His voice was strong and loud, that of a man instead of a child. "These people are my friends."

"Your friends?" she asked, eyes wide with disbelief, almost as if she thought Alfred's companions couldn't see or hear. None of the Fey spoke, just kept watching in silence. "Alfred, have you forgotten everything you learned about our history? The Fey have been our enemies for ages! They've killed our people, ransacked our villages, burned and looted and- and-"

"And we did the same to them," Alfred said gently. "Mother, they're exactly like us. Look at them!" He gestured back at the group of Fey gathered behind him. "What kind of differences do you see? Pointed ears? They're civilized people. They live in some of the most amazing houses I've ever seen, and they know so much about the world that we don't. We have so much to share, mother, don't you see? They know about things we could never dream about, and we have a lot that we can teach them back."

The Queen stared up at him, her full lips drawn in a thin line, and Alfred felt a pang of regret for making his mother this angry and upset. He wasn't about to take any of his words back, though, so he met her gaze evenly and refused to look away. The heated stare remained unbroken for several long moments. Finally his mother sighed and glanced away from his face, her eyes flicking across those of the Fey. "To bring them here, of all places…"

"Darling." A large hand landed softly on the Queen's shoulder, and both she and Alfred started and looked over at the King. Neither of them had heard him cross the courtyard. He looked up at Alfred, and though he obviously did not approve of his son's choice of companions, there was none of the cold anger or disappointment that his wife showed. "Let Alfred explain himself further. There must be more reasoning behind running off like that and then returning with a host of Fey." His eyes met Alfred's gaze, questioning.

Affection for his father rushed through Alfred, and he attempted a small, thankful smile before straightening up again and looking back at his company with all the regal airs he could muster. They were all watching him as well, waiting for whatever he intended to say. Then his eyes slipped down to Arthur's face, to pale skin and light freckles and large green eyes and the hint of a smile, and Alfred couldn't help but return it. This would all work out in the end. He was sure of it. Confident and reassured, he turned to look at his parents again. "You told me that I needed to find someone to marry before I turned twenty. Unless I'm mistaken, my twentieth birthday is in a few days, and I've found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

His parents had not expected that. The Queen drew in a sharp breath, her eyes flicking from Alfred's back over the Fey, lingering on the few women seated amongst them. "You found your bride? A… A Fey girl?"

It was right then that Alfred realized, with more than a little amusement, that neither of his parents had even noticed Arthur behind him yet. His body must have shielded Arthur's shorter, more slender one from view. He let out a low chuckle and, in one deft movement, dislodged Arthur's arms and swung himself down off the horse's back. Both his parents and Arthur let out similar gasps of surprise as they found themselves staring at one another. "Not a Fey girl," Alfred said from where he stood beside Arthur's leg, unable to keep a slight grin off his face. "A Fey man. A librarian, actually. Mother, father, this is Arthur."

There was silence. The Queen stared at Arthur, and the King stared at Arthur, and Arthur stared back at the two of them, and none of them seemed to be able to find a single thing to say. Alfred looked back and forth between them, unwilling to bridge the quiet just yet. This was something they would have to figure out. Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Er," he said slowly, "hello. I'm Arthur. It's very nice to meet you."

It was a very charmingly Arthur thing to say, Alfred thought. He just hoped his parents would be as taken by the man as he was.

Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case. His mother's mouth dropped open, gaping wide with many things to say but an inability to say them. The look in her eyes did not promise to be nice. It was the King who actually spoke up. "Alfred," he began, disbelief evident in his voice. "Alfred, is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to get a laugh out of us?"

"No!" Alfred wound his arm around Arthur's calf, looking up somewhat desperately into Arthur's eyes. The very idea of this not being real hurt far more than he'd like. "It's not a joke. I could never lie about this." Arthur smiled down at him, just a faint twitch of his lips, but the sight of it was enough to warm Alfred's chest, and he squeezed Arthur's leg tenderly.

"I see." The King was still frowning, but there was a hint of understanding in his face that hadn't been there moments before. Alfred could only hope that it would grow in time. But when he turned to look at his mother, any hope that had begun to bloom died right away. Her expression had gone from one of shock to one of pure anger, her blue eyes burning and her skin flushed. Alfred's grasp tightened slightly around Arthur's leg. Arthur hesitated, and then his hand trailed comfortingly through Alfred's hair.

That was what did it for the Queen. She lunged forward, grabbing Alfred's wrist and pulling him forcefully away from Arthur. Alfred yelped. "Mother!"

"Don't say anything, Alfred," she snapped, not even looking at him. Her narrowed eyes were fixed on Arthur's startled expression. "He's obviously enchanted you somehow with his wicked magic. But don't worry, darling, we'll deal with him right away, and before you know it, you'll be back to normal." She gestured towards a group of royal guards who were standing nearby. "You three, arrest this man and his companions. Keep them bound and locked up. I don't want them to be able to use any of their magic on you or anyone else."

The guards began to move forward slowly, their hands steadying themselves around their pikes, and all at once every mounted Fey except for Arthur and Gilbert was holding a bow and readying an arrow. Other Human guards and knights around the courtyard drew swords and spears.

This was not what Alfred had wanted, not at all. Before his mother could react, he wrenched himself away from her grip and back towards the white horse. "Stop!" he roared. "Stop, all of you!" He glared around at all of them, from his parents to the Fey to the soldiers, and even though he wasn't sure exactly how they would react, his voice echoed powerfully around the stone walls. And, to his surprise, they stopped. Every motion in the courtyard froze at once. The King and Queen stared at him in shock. Swords and bows remained unused. The air itself was still, silent, just waiting for him to speak again.

So Alfred did. He drew in a deep breath and faced down his parents, unwavering. "I came back here because I hoped you would accept me and my decision. You asked me to find the person I want to marry. I did. He's right here, and no matter what you say, he is the only person in this world that I would want to spend the rest of my life with." A gentle touch settled on his shoulder, and he turned to gaze into Arthur's deep green eyes. The Fey must have dismounted at some point during the confusion. Alfred smiled at him and took that hand into his own, entwining their fingers, before turning back to his parents. "If you won't accept that Arthur is the one I love, I won't stay here. I refuse to go along with those ridiculous old traditions if it means giving up something this wonderful. No matter how many girls you parade in front of me, none of them is Arthur, and I won't take them for a Queen."

"You would give up the throne for this man, Alfred?" the King demanded. "You've dreamed of kingship since you were a child. Is this really worth that much to you?"

Alfred nodded. "It is. A marriage of convenience might have been fine for you, father, but not for me. I won't accept it. I'm not that kind of person. You've always known that." He looked between his mother and father, still holding on to that faint, faint hope.

"But…" The Queen seemed to be struggling for words. Her eyes kept flickering down to where Alfred and Arthur's hands connected. "He's a Fey. He's not Human. He's…"

"I know," Alfred said, chuckling slightly. "I wouldn't want him any other way."

Arthur let out a sigh at that. "As foolishly romantic as always, aren't you?"

"You love it." They both knew it was true.

The King gazed at them. "You do realize that you're not the only one in line for the throne," he said slowly, though there was no real threat behind the words. "Your brother, Matthew, could take it if you were to elope. There's no-"

"I wouldn't take it." And there was Matthew himself, suddenly appearing by Alfred's other side. His footsteps weren't quite as quiet as the Fey, but he could still move almost unheard. He cast his brother a reassuring smile and looked back over at the King and Queen. "I've never been cut out for ruling, father. I would much rather stay on with the Spymaster. I'm one of his prized pupils, you know."

"Then you're in favor of your brother taking a male Fey for his bride?" their father asked.

Matthew's smile grew. "Of course I am. Alfred might do some strange things at times, but I don't think he would go to all this trouble without knowing exactly what he's getting into, and exactly what he wants." Alfred nudged his brother's arm in quiet thanks.

The courtyard was silent for a long few minutes. Alfred looked around at everyone gathered there, and then his eyes settled on Arthur, Arthur who looked strained and nervous but so strong and unwilling to back down. His heart swelled in his chest. This was what he was fighting for, to see that beautiful strength and fragility every single day for the rest of his life. There was no way he would back down. He raised his chin and stared at his parents. "Well?"

"Are you certain you haven't been enchanted?" the Queen blurted. She held her hands out desperately. "The Fey have strange magic, Alfred. You could be under some sort of spell, some evil power that took over your will, and you might not even know it! I don't think you're in your right mind, darling-"

"Mother." Alfred's voice was warm but firm, and the Queen's words trailed off immediately. He smiled at her. "I've seen Arthur's magic. He's showed me it several times before, and it's not what you think. It's one of the most beautiful, amazing things I've ever seen. It really is." As he spoke, he turned to look at Arthur again. Arthur was flushed faintly red, and there was an embarrassed smile playing around his lips, and Alfred knew that there were things even more beautiful than magic in the world. "He didn't enchant me, not with magic at least."

"Oh, Alfred," Arthur muttered, his blush unfading. "That was absolutely horrible. I can't believe you just said that in front of two Kings, and one of them is even your father." Both Matthew and Gilbert laughed.

"You're truly serious about this, then?" the King said after a moment, his violet eyes neutral, unreadable.

"Yes." Alfred met that stare head on, despite the flickerings of anxiety in his stomach. "I am."

Silence again. Alfred could feel Arthur's pulse beating alongside his own, their combined heartbeats resounding up from where their hands were still connected. His father's expression did not change. The hope that had refused to leave Alfred's mind flickered and faded. It seemed that his parents were too deeply rooted in the old ways to be able to accept something so new. He breathed out a deep, disappointed sigh, shaking his head even as his hand tightened its grip around Arthur's fingers. "I guess this is goodbye then, father. I'll miss you, and you too, mother… I wish things could have turned out differently, but I guess that couldn't happen." Arthur squeezed his hand gently, his eyes welling with sympathy, as they both turned back towards the horse they had ridden.

"Wait."

Alfred froze at the sound of his father's voice. That was the King voice, the one that no one dared to disobey. He looked back over his shoulder at his father. "Yes?"

The King wasn't even looking at him. Instead, those violet eyes were focused on Gilbert, who, still mounted, towered over the Human King's head. "I assume that your presence here means that you consent to this union?"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, either, but I think they really have something here." He grinned. "Your boy is really persuasive in his storytelling."

"Storytelling?" asked Alfred's father.

"Ask him to tell you about how he and Arthur met and everything. It's a real heartwarmer, believe me." Then Gilbert's expression settled into something more neutral and kingly, and he suddenly seemed the very picture of royalty as he stared down at the Human King. "But what I am truly here for is to show my support of a friendship, perhaps even an alliance, between my own people and the Kingdom of Spades. This marriage could provide that, even if Arthur isn't one of my own children, and I think such a relationship between our Kingdoms would be good for both of us."

Alfred's father regarded him sternly, though there was a curiosity, almost a feeling of kinship, in his stare. "I will admit to thinking the same thing every now and then. But how could this union help that cause? Arthur is male. He can't provide any heirs to my son."

"We'll take one in," Alfred interrupted. His palm was sweating where Arthur still held it. "There are so many orphaned and homeless children out in the streets. One of them could be my heir."

"There's no precedent." But even the Queen looked as though she was considering the idea.

Alfred couldn't help the awkward grin that spread across his lips. "We'd already be breaking so many other traditions. I don't think one more is going to hurt anyone." This was it, he thought. He'd spoken his piece, Gilbert had chimed in, Arthur and Matthew were standing strong beside him, and now his parents were actually thinking over the idea. His hopes of marrying Arthur and still keeping the throne seemed to be within his grasp.

The King and Queen of Spades exchanged a long, quiet look. Alfred had seen that sort of look before, and it usually meant something momentous was going to happen, but it was still so very hard to read and he couldn't figure out just what they were going to say. He squeezed Arthur's hand and held him close, his breath catching in his throat as he felt Arthur rest slightly against him, because he never thought he would be able to get used to that wonderful feeling, and waited for his parents' answer.

"Well," said the King after a moment, and then didn't say anything else for even longer. Alfred struggled not to shift his weight nervously. His father looked around at all of the assembled company. "Well," he said again, "I suppose this means we will have to find some suitable wedding finery for Arthur. Somehow I don't think the traditional wedding dress of Spades will work here."

Alfred couldn't help it. He laughed, relief pouring out of every inch of skin, and threw his arms around Arthur. One dazedly happy spin later, he set his new fiance down on the ground again and beamed around at everyone. "Thank you so much, father. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Yes," Arthur added, breathless and red-faced and still in the circle of Alfred's arms. "Yes, thank you, your Majesty."

But the King just waved their thanks aside, smiling now himself beneath his grey-flecked mustache, and offered his arm to his wife. She took it, and though she looked a little more hesitant about the situation, she was smiling faintly as well. "Come inside," she said to their company. "We'll need to sit down and discuss just how this marriage is going to affect our Kingdoms."

Gilbert nodded, swinging himself down off his horse with more grace than Alfred had been expecting. His Fey hunters dismounted after him. With one more wink at Alfred and Arthur from Gilbert and a smile and wave from Angelique, they began to follow the King and Queen of Spades up the staircase and into the castle. Matthew gave Alfred a gentle pat on the shoulder, smiling widely between him and Arthur, before making his way inside as well.

And then Alfred couldn't wait anymore. He turned to Arthur, who stared up at him, his mouth open as if to speak and ask why they weren't going inside yet, and beamed down into those wide green eyes. And he kissed Arthur full on the lips, hard and fast and without the slightest hint of desperation, because there wasn't any need for that anymore. He kissed Arthur right there in the middle of the courtyard, with guards watching and his parents and the Fey King nearby, and it was even more amazing than he could have imagined. Then Arthur's hands came up to grab his cheeks and deepen the kiss, and somehow, it got even better.

For once, it seemed that the world had decided to spin just the right way at just the right time, and Alfred had found his One True Love, and he was very, very sure that happily ever after was right around the corner.

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><p>AN- And finally, chapter nine. Sorry for the delay. This chapter really didn't want to be written.

So, er, have some awkward dialogue and lots of sap. I had something planned to say here but I've completely forgotten what it was. Oh well. Anyway, one more chapter to go, and this part of the story will be finished. However! I rather like this universe that I built, and I doubt I'll just drop it and leave. There might be some one-shots cropping up now and again about Alfred and Arthur. No promises though.

Hope you enjoy! Thank you all for the reviews and favorites and alerts.


	10. Chapter 10

The wedding took place on Alfred's twentieth birthday, just as tradition dictated. Beautiful Spades roses and white and gold wildflowers decorated the arbor and willow tree beneath which Alfred stood, dressed in summer finery, his silver crown resting upon his brow. He looked very striking up there, the brilliant sunlight bringing out the gold in his hair and the regal jut of his jaw. His cape draped in just the right way around his body. In other words, Alfred was the very essence of the royalty of Spades, the image that every other Kingdom on the continent pictured when they thought of Alfred's country.

But as Alfred stood up there, his brother and an ancient priest by his side, he knew that this wedding was anything but normal. How could it be, when he was waiting for the most wonderful man in the world to join him at the altar? Alfred glanced around at the assembled guests once again, his gaze flickering over the royalty of Spades and Hearts and Diamonds and Clubs and Fey, and even some of the Chessmen from across the sea, at the other various nobles and people of standing that his parents had invited. Back at the edge of the of the small garden clearing stood a crowd of lower class folk, some Human, some Fey. Alfred could feel his nerves thrumming as he stood there before them all. What ifs ran through his mind.

And those all stopped at once, along with all other thoughts that his brain might have held, the moment that Arthur stepped into sight. Alfred's mouth dropped open, his breath leaving in a rush. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of Arthur slowly making his way down the petal-laden aisle, one hand resting on the hilt of the ceremonial sword that had been quickly forged for him in the past few days. Arthur looked striking, draped in the blues and silvers of Spades, but with accents of the greens and golds of his own people. Every inch of his clothing, from tunic to breeches to the half-cape that draped over one arm, had been sewn from the cloth that the Fey typically used in their dress. He seemed almost to shine in the sunlight.

Or at least, that was how Alfred saw him, and honestly, Alfred didn't quite care what anyone else might have been seeing. He was far too busy being breathless and amazed by the man he loved- the man he was just about to marry. His eyes met Arthur's, bright above his flushed, freckled cheeks, and a jolt of terrified, beautiful excitement leaped between them. Trembling slightly, Alfred held out one hand. Arthur smiled and took it, and Alfred felt his fingers shaking just as much. It calmed him somewhat, knowing that Arthur was feeling the same way.

Then they were standing together at the altar, staring at one another, both flushed red with happiness, their fingers interlaced between them. Alfred couldn't remember another time where he had felt like this, so excited, so alive, so in love. The ridiculous little grin on his lips refused to go away, even once the priest began to speak.

The ceremony itself was somewhat of a blur for Alfred, something that he faintly remembered but could only focus on bits and pieces. Every one of those parts revolved around Arthur. The priest's voice was but a murmur in the background, and Alfred heard his own voice join it every now and then, repeating words and vows, and Arthur's voice spoke after him, rolling and soft and strong, catching in Alfred's ears. He felt Arthur's hands in his own, slender and only slightly calloused, mostly smooth, and the way they moved around and shook when a ring was slipped down over one pale finger. He felt those same hands hold his own fingers in place as an identical ring was placed upon one. He remembered Arthur's eyes, and Arthur's smile, and those freckles that were brought out by his blush, and the warmth in his expression and words, and how right it felt to have their hands connected, and that wedding could have consisted of him and Arthur alone, and he would not have noticed.

Alfred only really came back into himself at the very end, when a beautifully crafted silver circlet was pressed into his hands, and he found himself standing before Arthur, who was kneeling down on the stone stairs. He looked down past the silver and into Arthur's flushed, nervous face, and knew that this was it. The moment he set the crown down upon Arthur's head, they would be bound together by the laws of the Kingdom of Spades. Alfred and Arthur, side by side, married, destined to take the throne when the current King and Queen stepped down.

He couldn't imagine a more wonderful future. So it was with a wide smile on his face that Alfred lifted the circlet up high, allowing all of the guests to see it gleaming in the sun, before placing it down gently upon Arthur's head. Respectful silence settled over even the most roudy of the wedding guests. Without taking his eyes away from his new husband, Alfred bent down and offered his hands to Arthur, who, smiling and still blushing, took them. They rose back to their feet together, standing tall in front of their audience.

"Beneath the eyes of the gods," the priest called out from beside them, "these two men have now bonded. With the gods' blessings, I give you the Crown Prince Alfred of Spades, and his royal consort, Princess Arthur of the Fey."

Someone snickered in the crowd- Alfred thought it might have been the pompously dressed King of Diamonds- and Arthur's shoulders tensed. The Princess title had been something they'd fought long and hard against, but Alfred's father had insisted. There were old laws in place, he'd said, put there when two brothers had tried to rule side by side and made a complete mess out of everything. Two Kings couldn't sit on the same throne, and two Princes could not ascend it together. And, since Alfred was adamant about not taking a wife for Queenly duties, Arthur was unfortunately relegated to that title. He'd accepted it, if only because there wasn't any other way, but Alfred had been forced to make hundreds of promises to change things the very second he could.

For the moment, though, all he could do was squeeze Arthur's hand and give him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he murmured, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. "No one will even remember it after a while."

Arthur sighed. "I hope you're right."

But there was no time to dwell on that, because everyone was standing and applauding, and then there was a rush to get over to the refreshments and the dancing that any good wedding party simply had to involve. Of course, the newly wedded couple were given the first dance. Alfred, who had always been surprisingly light on his feet, swept Arthur around the makeshift grassy dance floor, unable to resist adding in bits of country dances he'd learned, just to catch Arthur off guard. Arthur, obviously, did exactly the same, slipping in movements that Alfred had never seen before. And by the end, they were laughing, and Arthur's silver circlet was tilted a little lopsidedly on his head, and Alfred was pretty sure he'd stepped on someone in the audience's toes once or twice. They ate and they drank and they met people and it ended up being one of the best days of Alfred's life so far.

Night fell. With it came the end of the celebration, and so all the villagers and Spades nobles went back to their homes or a nearby inn, and the foreign royals retreated to the guest rooms they'd been provided. That left Alfred and Arthur to go up to their rooms. Their rooms, which only had one bed.

The moment the bedroom door closed behind him, Alfred was nervous. As embarrassing as it was, he had never been the type to try out a roll in the hay with any available chambermaid, and now there he was on his wedding night, hopelessly virginal. He hoped that wouldn't change Arthur's opinion of him. Fingers shaking slightly, he lifted his hands to the clasp on his cape, pointedly staring at a spot on the far wall just over Arthur's shoulder. "So, now we, uh…"

"Consummate our marriage, yes." Arthur stepped towards him, his hands brushing over Alfred's to take over in removing the cape. His face was very, very neutral, almost bored, Alfred noted anxiously.

He laughed, a little higher than usual, and tried to return the favor by taking off Arthur's cape as well. "Right, exactly." His fingers were still trembling, though, and the very idea of what he was doing, undressing Arthur, wasn't helping to calm himself down. He fumbled for far too long on the clasp before it finally fell to the floor. His own cape had been removed much faster, and Arthur was now working on loosening the belt that held his tunic in place. The gentle touch seemed to kill his ability to speak properly, so Alfred kept himself painfully silent, barely able to hold back the nervous gulps his body demanded.

The rest of the disrobing was equally as awkward. The air felt far too warm when Alfred's chest was finally bared. He tried to keep his breathing in check as he slid off Arthur's tunic, and then the shirt beneath it, and found himself staring at Arthur's bare torso. It was pale, even paler than his face and hands if that was at all possible, and partially covered by hair so thin, blonde, and sparse that it was almost invisible. He was slender with lean muscle, but still had strong shoulders, and Alfred thought faintly that he had never been more attracted to anyone in his life, and he hadn't even removed Arthur's breeches yet. It was only as he reached for the laces that he noticed how Arthur's hands had stilled.

"Arthur?" he asked, confused. Arthur refused to meet his eyes, his hands reaching out towards Alfred's breeches again before hesitating. And now that he thought about it, Alfred realized that Arthur hadn't looked him in the face even once since the door had closed, at least as far as he'd seen. He cupped Arthur's face gently in his hands and leaned down slightly to look him straight in the eyes. "Arthur, what is it? What's wrong?"

That didn't seem to be the right thing to say. Immediately, Arthur pulled away, glaring down at Alfred's exposed collarbone. He crossed his arms over his chest. "It's nothing."

"No, it's something." Alfred stepped forward again, pulling Arthur's slighter body carefully into his arms, and tried to meet his gaze again. "Please, Arthur, just tell me. Did I do something wrong? Can I still fix it? I'm sorry if it was me."

"No," Arthur mumbled, then sighed. He raised his eyes to meet Alfred's worried look, the gesture surprisingly timid and out of place, and his hands clenched where they were still covering his chest. "It's not you, Alfred. It's… It's me." His face and neck flushed slightly. "I've never…"

"You've never?" Alfred repeated, uncomprehending. "You've never what?" It was rather hard to keep himself from thinking about the fact that they were pressed chest to chest, both topless, but he struggled to keep focused.

Arthur cast him an irritated glare, but it appeared somewhat resigned. "You would have me say it aloud, wouldn't you?" His hands slowly moved away from his own chest and hovered, hesitant, above Alfred's shoulders. "I've never…" he whispered again, his eyes moving from Alfred's face to his neck to his chest. "I've never done this before, Alfred. With anyone." His voice was soft, embarrassed, and Alfred realized with a start that Arthur thought he was more knowledgeable about all of this.

He couldn't help but laugh. It came out a bit too loud and not quite relieved enough, and Arthur stared up at him with obviously mounting irritation, but Alfred quickly dealt with that by leaning in and catching Arthur's lips in a quick, passionate kiss. He pulled away just as quickly, his own lips spreading into a wide smile. "Arthur," he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, "Arthur, I've never done this, either. Never."

"You… What?" Arthur gaped at him. "Never? But you're- I would have thought-"

Alfred chuckled, his grin widening. "Never. I just never found the right person, I guess." Then, as he looked down into Arthur's eyes, that smile softened, and he reached up with one hand to brush some of those messy bangs out of Arthur's face. "I've found him now, though, so I think I'm ready to try this."

"You've really never…?" Arthur was still staring at him, but the shame in his eyes was fading, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His hands finally settled on Alfred's shoulders and slid slowly down onto his chest, resting just below his collarbone. "I'm surprised," Arthur murmured, watching as his fingers traced patterns upon Alfred's skin. "I would have thought that a man like you, a Prince, would have the choice of any woman or man you wanted."

"I did," Alfred breathed in reply. The soft, feathery touches were sending shocks of heat through his body, and the warm air from before only seemed to be getting hotter. "I didn't want any of them." He caught Arthur's chin with one hand, lifting it so that their eyes would meet again. Every thought, every emotion, everything that he felt as he looked at Arthur, he tried to pour through his gaze. He wanted Arthur to know, to understand that this was it. He meant every word that he'd said and left unsaid.

And Arthur did. A gentle shudder rolled through his shoulders, and though the candles in the room were still burning bright, his eyes seemed to darken. "And you want me?" he whispered, voice barely loud enough for Alfred to hear, as his hands trailed even farther down Alfred's chest.

There was no hesitation. "I do."

Hands tangled in Alfred's hair right at the same moment where Alfred grasped at Arthur's back, and they pressed hard against each other, mouth against mouth, chest against chest, fingers touching every bit of one another that they could reach. This wasn't anything like their previous kisses, and at the same time, exactly alike. There was still love in there, passion and care and adoration, but there was more, a burning fire that glowed between them, sparking wherever they touched. Alfred's breath came out in gasps when their mouths separated for the briefest moments, and Arthur was muttering what sounded like nonsense whenever he had the chance, and, fumbling, they moved back towards the bed.

It was only when the backs of Arthur's knees hit the edge of the bedframe and he fell back onto the sheets, away from Alfred's hold, with a choked gasp, that Alfred realized Arthur was still wearing his somewhat lopsided crown. His stuttering breath caught even more in his throat. The image before him, Arthur sprawled out in the rich blue sheets, shirtless and with breeches undone, his pale skin flushed, his hair mussed, that circlet resting just above the tips of his pointed ears… Alfred wanted him, craved him, desired him, more powerfully than he'd ever thought possible.

In one graceful motion, Arthur rolled his shoulders and languidly reached up towards where Alfred still stood, smiling, beckoning. Not even Alfred was fool enough to ignore such a wonderful invitation. Grinning, he climbed onto the bed over Arthur, bending down to capture his lips once again. Soon enough, the bed was a mess of blankets and pillows and sweat. Though they both lost their breeches, somehow, their crowns did not fall, no matter how vigorously they moved. And at the end, when they were laying there in the tangle of sheets, sweaty and sated and aching a little, but happy, Alfred chuckled at the sight of the silver band still barely hanging on to Arthur's forehead. Arthur, of course, rolled his eyes and demanded that they both take them off so they could sleep, so they did, setting the two crowns carelessly on the bedside table.

Then they slept.

That was the beginning of a lifetime together. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't quite the happily ever after that the old stories spoke of, but it was just right for the two of them. They remained Prince and very male Princess for many years, until Alfred was nearly thirty, before his father suffered from a fatal hunting accident and it was time for the Crown Prince to take the throne. And so they ascended to that throne, and they were Alfred and Arthur, the King and Queen of Spades. Arthur didn't even mind the female title by then. He'd taken it for his own, and felt no need to change it.

They ruled for a long time. Alfred grew a beard and mustache somewhere along the line, which Arthur quite liked, but insisted that he keep trimmed and neat. Arthur expanded the castle library with books from around the world, and at Alfred's urging, opened it up to the village people as well as the nobility. They took in a young orphan boy, a half-breed, known as a Fey-born by some and a Changeling by others and Peter to almost everyone, and named him their heir. Matthew stayed in the castle and became the new Spymaster when the old one passed away, and the Kingdom of Spades had never before had quite as much secret information about its allies and enemies. Relations between the Humans of Spades and King Gilbert's Fey continued to improve.

Of course, it wasn't all fun or good. Alfred and Arthur dealt with famine and threats of war and bandits on the borders and failed diplomatic ventures and even a few raidings on the coast from the Chessmen. But they took it in stride, and though there were arguments between them, and sometimes they went to bed alone in one of the guestrooms, it was never enough to tear them apart, just as they never let those outside problems tear their Kingdom to pieces.

When King Alfred of Spades died at the very, very old age of seventy-one, it was in bed, in the arms of Queen Arthur, at peace. Arthur died only hours later with a smile on his face. Crown Prince Peter took his adopted father's throne. And any schoolboy would say that King Alfred's reign was a good and prosperous one, and all the history books claimed that he saved the Kingdom from what would have surely been destruction, but only one thing was for certain.

Crown Prince Alfred of Spades was born in the midst of a war that he couldn't remember, and King Alfred of Spades had died in the midst of a peace that he'd brought, and had never, ever given up. The proof of it all was right there in the two graves sitting in the gentle shade of a willow tree in the gardens of the castle, over which were growing the most exotic of Spades roses, ones that were not only blue, but brilliant violet and passionate red, and the two names engraved into the stone.

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><p>AN- And that's it. The end.

Of this story, at least. As I mentioned before, I like this world I built, and I left myself a lot of room in which to play, so I will likely return here again.

Oh, and as I know some people will wonder who the Chessmen are... I decided to add in the Scandinavians. Since there are no more card families, they can be associated with chess pieces. They come from a land across the sea.

But wow. Writing this has been a challenge, because I'm not used to doing something so long in so short a time period, and it's been absolutely wonderful, even in the hard parts. I sincerely hope that you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it. Nearly thirty five thousand words is more than enough for a writer to fall in love with a piece of her work.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this from the start, to everyone who joined in along the way, and to everyone who will find it in the future. I really appreciate all the views and comments and everything.

Until next time, White Mizerable, out.


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